


Herald and Commander, Part Two: Protecting and Proud

by ButterflySunrider



Series: Herald and Commander: A Romance in Four Parts [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bromance, Drug Withdrawal, Epic, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Headcanon, M/M, Plot Exposition Has To Go Somewhere, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Starring Everybody Really, True Love, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-07 06:50:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 36,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3165386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflySunrider/pseuds/ButterflySunrider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisition has found a new home. Now they need someone to lead them as they begin to consolidate power in Thedas. Ellana of Clan Lavellan finds herself trying to balance her new responsibilities as Inquisitor and the challenges of her blossoming relationship with Cullen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arise, Inquisitor Lavellan

...Skyhold.

Or, as Solas later told her, _Tarasyl'an Te'las_ , “the place where the sky was held back”. Ellana had found it after days of hiking through the Frostback Mountains, out of Ferelden and into the Orlesian Dales territory. It was completely deserted upon the arrival of the Inquisition, and it’s lack of current ownership made claiming it one of the easiest things they’d had accomplished thus far.

It seemed to many that Ellana had gripped the Inquisition tight and raised it from perdition single-handedly. But this, like those that had come before was a victory of alliance, and she was determined not to let people forget that. The only way the Inquisition would thrive would be if those who were a part of it took personal ownership of it.

Ellana Lavellan had been an accused murderer, the Herald of Andraste, and savior of the rebel mages. She had faced down a Dragon, an ancient Tevinter magister, and an avalanche. Alone. Finally, she was credited with finding the Inquisition’s new home, just a week or so ago.

And she was just getting started.

At that moment, she needed lunch. She had just managed to scrounge up some mutton jerky and a handful of berries when she saw Cullen, Cassandra, Josephine, and Leliana in a little huddle as if they were discussing something important. She stuffed the berries into her mouth. _Hey, look at them getting along! Maybe somebody finally had a bowel movement._ The Council members had not spoken to each other much during their journey across the mountains. Mostly they took turns talking to her. 

When Solas let them.

When they had arrived, things were...odd. Most people had to camp outside because the roofs needed repair. Josephine coordinated the arrival of the refugees and pilgrims, Leliana sent out ravens to their agents to let them know the locale of their new base of operations. Cassandra acted as a liaison to the mages, which was probably not the most ideal role for her, but it always made Ellana laugh when she told some soft ex-Circle mage to stop whining.

Cullen...Cullen was a man obsessed. He had barely spoken to her since they arrived, and Ellana was beginning to suspect that he was actively avoiding her. What little she saw of him concerned her; the dark circles around his bloodshot eyes, his unusually short-tempered manner with his men, and how pale he was. But whenever she approached him, he wouldn't even look at her. He was always too busy.

Her mouth was still full when Cassandra noticed her and they all stopped talking, turned and smiled at her. _Yes, I found us the beautiful crumbling ruin. You’re welcome, Can I eat now?_

 _No such luck._ Cassandra beckoned her over and the others left. _What is going on?_ She swallowed hard, gulping down her berries without chewing them all the way, nearly making herself gag in the process. Cassandra stood at ease and spoke. “They arrive daily from every settlement in the region. Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage.” She turned, and began to walk up a stonework staircase that led to the main building. “If word has reached these people, then it has reached the Elder One. We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here. But this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated.” Cassandra stopped and turned to Ellana. “But we now know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus. What drew him to you.”

Ellana held out her “rift hand” as she had come to call it. “He came for this, and now it’s useless to him so he wants me dead. That’s it.”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow at her and began walking again. Ellana got the distinct impression that she was being led somewhere, but she trusted Cassandra, so she followed. “The Anchor has power, but it’s not why you’re still standing here. Your decisions let us heal the sky—”

_You know, I never did get to gloat to Cullen about that. I’d been right about choosing to work with the mages. It would be nice if he told me so._

“—your determination brought us out of Haven—”

_And the trebuchet. Don't forget the trebuchet._

Cassandra began to ascend another stairway. “You are the creature’s rival because of what you did, and we know it. _All of us_.”

_So, Cullen had said as much to Cassandra, but was still too proud to admit it to me, eh? Figures._

When they reached the top of the stairs, Ellana froze. _Wait a moment. Why is Leliana holding a sword in her hands?_

“The Inquisition requires a leader,” Cassandra continued. “The one who has _already_ been leading it.”

_Uh-oh._

Ellana looked around her in shock. The people of Skyhold were gathered below, gazing up at her with adoration, including Cullen and Josephine. Leliana was carrying what she could now see was a ceremonial greatsword that looked almost as big as she was and was holding it out for her to take.

“You,” said Cassandra.

Ellana couldn’t help but think that it must have been hard for the Seeker to do this. The Inquisition was her brainchild, and to have to hand the reins over to some elven apostate who wasn’t even Andrastian…

“It’s... _unanimous_ then?” Ellana asked in sheer disbelief. “You all have _that much_ confidence in me?”

Cassandra smiled. “All of these people have their lives because of you. They will follow.”

“ _That_ ,” replied Ellana, “wasn't the question.”

“I will not lie,” said Cassandra. “Handing this power to anyone is troubling, but I have to believe this is meant to be. There would be no Inquisition without you. How it will serve, how you lead, that must be yours to decide.”

Ellana stuffed her mutton jerky into a pouch on her belt and gazed at the sword a moment before wiping her hand on her robes, gripping the handle, and raising it aloft. It was a good thing it was so light; the blade really was as long as she was tall. She hoped that she wasn’t a comical sight. 

Then Ellana uttered the words that would come to herald a new dawn throughout Thedas. “I will lead us against Corypheus, and I will be an ambassador. I am an elven mage standing for Thedas. The Inquisition is for us all.”

“Wherever you lead us,” replied Cassandra. She called out, “Have our people been told?”

“They have,” answered Josephine. “And soon, the world!”

“Commander, will they follow?” shouted Cassandra.

Cullen turned to his soldiers. “Inquisition, will you follow?”

The crowd roared it’s assent.

“Will you fight?” he asked.

Again, they cheered.

“Will we triumph?” Cullen called out.

A raucous ovation answered the Commander.

Then Cullen drew his sword as he presented Ellana for the first time. “Your Leader, Your Herald, Your Inquisitor!”

Cullen had, at that moment, effectively given Ellana the world to remake as she saw fit. Well, not him alone exactly, but he had given the final official public anointing. And that was the way she preferred to remember it. 

She was scared, grateful, ecstatic, and curious all at the same time. But she couldn't help but wonder, as the official business began to unfold, and Cullen continued to elude her gaze, what all this would mean for _them_.

~~~

Ellana sought Cullen out after their first meeting in the new War Room. He was barking orders at his men, which meant he was in no position to suddenly excuse himself. 

“Send men to scout the area,” Cullen said to a small group of soldiers. “We need to know what’s out there!” 

“Yes, Ser!” They saluted the Commander and left.

Shapeley circled around and gave him a report. “Commander, soldiers have been assigned temporary quarters.”

“Very good,” Cullen replied. “I’ll need an update on the armory as well." When Shapeley hesitated, Cullen snapped, “Now!”

_Perhaps this isn't such a good time, but then, what would be?_

Finally, Cullen saw her, and spoke to her, directly, to her alone, for the first time _in over a week_. “We set up as best we could at Haven, but could never prepare for an Archdemon—or whatever that was. With some warning, we might have…” He trailed off as if he’d lost his train of thought.

Ellana stared at him. “Cullen, do you _ever_ sleep?”

He ignored her question. “If Corypheus strikes again, we may not be able to withdraw...and I wouldn't want to. We must be ready.” He stared at the plans that lay before him on his table. “Work on Skyhold is underway, guard rotations established. We should have everything on course within the week. We will not run from here, Inquisitor!”

Ellana hadn't wanted a report from from the Commander of the Inquisition, she’d wanted Cullen Rutherford's attention. _Why is he being so impersonal? Have I done something wrong? Maybe he's upset about casualties._

“How many were lost?” she asked him.

“Most of our people made it to Skyhold,” he replied. "It could have been worse. Morale was low, but it’s already beginning to show improvement since you accepted the role of Inquisitor.”

Ellana gave Cullen a dubious look. “Inquisitor Lavellan. It sounds odd, don’t you think?”

“Not at all!” he answered.

She raised her eyebrow at Cullen. “Is that the ‘official’ response?”

He laughed. “I suppose it is, but it’s the truth.” He stood up again and looked at her. “We needed a leader; you proved yourself.”

Ellana looked down and bit her lip. “Thank you, Cullen.”

He smiled at her. 

“Our escape from Haven...it was close,” said Ellana. “I’m relieved that you— that so many made it out.”

“As am I,” he replied. He held her gaze for a few moments, then looked away sadly.

Almost overwhelmed with embarrassment at his restrained attitude towards her, she turned to go.

He whispered, just loud enough for her alone to hear, “You stayed behind. You could have—” then he reached for her arm and pulled her to him. “I will not allow the events at Haven to happen again. You have my word.”


	2. Maferath's Lament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen sees parallels between himself and Maferath, the worldly husband of Andraste, so he makes a difficult choice.

“Spite ate away all that was good, kind, and loving till nothing was left but the spite itself, coiled 'round my heart like a great worm.

And in my darkest hour, I turned from Her and vowed that I would destroy Her.

At the moment of Her death I knew what I had done, and I wept.”

~ The Canticle of Maferath, Dissonant Verses

~~~

He should not have been reading it. 

It was one of Cullen’s few vices, reading things that he should not, according to the Chantry, be reading. It was a relatively new one, borne of necessity: his desire to avoid the night terrors that plagued his sleep, and, well, because it was his scornful little farewell to his life as a Templar.

Andraste had been touched by the Maker, and Maferath was her husband and Commander. The Chantry taught that Maferath’s sin was Jealousy. Jealousy of the Maker in particular. And Cullen had also read a number of Brother Genitivi’s works, including his eyewitness account of Queen Elissa’s journey through the Trials of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. 

Genitivi had earned a significant amount of scorn amongst the more conservative ranks of the Chantry for his evenhanded approach towards other faiths, and the skeptical eye he turned on the Chant of Light. But Cullen found it comforting that his strong belief did not make him a judgmental man. It was...something to aspire to.

That having been said, he should not have been reading about Maferath in his condition. Not the Dissonant Verses and certainly not cross-referencing with Brother Genitivi’s work. 

It was said that Queen Elissa encountered the ghost of Maferath in the Temple, and after guessing his sin, he’d replied:

"Yes, jealousy drove me to betrayal. I was the greatest general of the Alamarri, but beside Her I was nothing. Hundreds fell before Her on bended knee. They loved Her, as did the Maker. I loved her too, but what man can compare with a god?"

He closed Genitivi’s book and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had a headache. Again. What he wouldn’t give for some Elderberry tea…

He thought of Ellana. Of course he did. When was he _not_ thinking about Ellana? But ever since she’d become the Inquisitor, he wasn’t sure how to talk to her. There was an invisible wall between them now; a wall built of rank and duty. The problem wasn’t that she outranked him, exactly. He’d grown up in the Chantry, he was used to female authority figures. But he wasn’t used to wanting to go to bed with them.

Things were difficult enough when people were ‘only’ calling her the Herald of Andraste. But when people started to kneel in her presence, and call her ‘Your Worship’, what could he do in the face of that? Cullen was a private man, and in his own way, he worshipped her too. But he didn’t want to share her with the rest of Thedas.

 _But who am I to ask for exclusive rights to her love and devotion? Whether she believes it or not, she was touched by the Maker._

_How could I compare with…a god?_

Fear lurched inside Cullen and made him sick to his stomach. He would rather die than hurt her. But men consumed by jealousy are capable of terrible things. Maferath had not been born a betrayer, a monster. Perhaps he had not only been jealous of the Maker, but jealous of his wife. Jealous of the ease she had in making people of all nations flock to her banner. The parallels were too strong to deny.

The only way he could hope to protect Ellana...was to push her away. 

He didn’t have to break her heart, either. He could, justifiably, become consumed with his work and let her be busy with hers. He could _not_ seek her out, and he could be distant when she approached him. They would simply...grow apart. _Surely as she grows in power and influence and meets new people, she will forget whatever it is we have._

_Or had._

He didn’t have to break her heart, thank the Maker.

Just his own.


	3. Head in Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To protect Ellana, Cullen had intended to only break his own heart.

“Cullen?” Ellana poked her head inside the Commander’s new office.

“Come in,” he answered without looking up.

Ellana stepped inside, her eyes wide with wonder. “Ohhhh, Cullen! Your office, it’s—”

“Functional,” Cullen replied curtly. “Finally.” He wanted to tell her about how he'd finally gotten his books in order, that he’d never had so much room to himself in his life, what an amazing view he had, and…

“Yes,” Ellana concurred. “And...you’ve made it very... _you_.”

“Mmm,” he grunted. 

“Before, it was just this cold, drafty, grey space,” she observed. “But you’ve made it so warm and inviting. The colors—”

“Is there something you _need_ , Inquisitor?” Cullen looked up at her with an impatient expression. “Because I’m very busy and I have an important meeting with Sister Leliana in an hour.” 

Ellana was crestfallen. She hung her head. “Cullen...have I...done something wrong? Something to upset you?” she asked in a small voice.

“No more than usual,” he said with a labored sigh.

Cullen jumped in his chair when he heard the sound of porcelain breaking against the wall behind him. “Are you going to clean that up?” he snapped.

“You _bastard_ ,” Ellana growled, her voice trembling.

“I beg your pardon?” Cullen asked.

Ellana stalked towards his desk, her eyes aflame with fury. He got up from his seat to try to even the dynamic with his superior height. “What is _wrong_ with you?” she demanded.

“ _Nothing_ is wrong with me,” Cullen replied. _This is harder than I thought_. “I am _trying_ to do my job. Maybe you should try doing yours, _Inquisitor_.”

“You’re hiding something from me, what is it?” demanded Ellana.

“I don’t have to tell you every little thing that goes on in my life!” Cullen exclaimed. “Don’t you have other people to bother?”

Ellana’s eyes filled with tears.

_Oh._

_Oh no._

“Cullen, _please_ ,” she sobbed. “Tell me what’s going on! There’s something you’re not telling me, I know it. This _isn’t_ like you.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you _think_ you do,” he growled. _The faster this goes down, the faster she’ll recover. You can do it. Any moment now._

“Cullen…” she began, her voice breaking.

“Commander,” he corrected her. “If you’re not going to respect my space, you can at least respect my rank.”

“Commander,” she whispered.

“Please leave,” Cullen said.

Ellana ran from him, slamming the door behind her.

Cullen stared at the door until his eyes began to blur. He sat down at his desk and attempted to calm himself with a deep breath through the nose.

_What...is that smell?_

He inhaled again as he leaned back in his chair, turning his face slightly towards the wall where she’d thrown the mug.

_Elderberry tea. She’d brought me my favorite._

_Well, shit._


	4. The Hunter and the Hunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen tries to return to business as usual, but Vivienne has other plans.

Ellana sat next to Vivienne on her elegant couch crying. “Vivienne...it’s just too difficult! I can’t do this. I... _can’t_.”

“You can and you _must_ , my dear!!” said Vivienne. “ _Who_ are you, darling? Look at the mirror and tell me what you see.”

Ellana stood up straight, hurriedly wiped the tears from her cheeks, and took a ragged breath. “I...am Ellana. Stormbringer of C—clan Lavellan. First to Keeper Lavellan, Herald of Andraste, Ambassador of the Dalish Clans, and the Lady Inquisitor.”

“That’s _right_ , my dear.” Vivienne said with an approving nod. “Go on.”

Ellana took another deep breath. “I am surrounded by love and everything is fine.”

Vivienne took a delicate sip of her afternoon tea. “Another.”

“My heart is always open and I radiate love,” said Ellana.

“And the last one?” asked Vivienne.

“Do I _have_ to?” asked Ellana.

Vivienne raised her eyebrow and sipped more tea.

Ellana sighed. “My partner is the love of my life and the center of my world. He loves me…” she trailed off.

“ _Finish_ it, my dear.”

“He _loves_ me...as much as I love him,” Ellana finished.

“Excellent, my dear. Sit down. Have some tea.” Vivienne instructed as she handed the elven woman a delicate cup and saucer. “Now, _why_ do we do this?”

Ellana began to recite, “Whatever the mind can conceive...and believe...”

“You will _achieve_ ,” finished Vivienne. “The more you repeat it, the more you will believe it, the more you believe it, the more it will radiate through you as truth. Others will _see_. Then they too shall believe.”

Ellana burst into fresh tears.

“And another thing, my dear,” continued Vivienne, as she handed Ellana a handkerchief, “Do not let your Commander see your tears. Save them, like a rare vintage, for special occasions, or you risk overplaying your hand.”

“Yes, Madame.”

“This is _war_ , darling,” said Vivienne, patting Ellana on the arm. “You cannot afford to be sentimental.”

“I thought it was love,” Ellana replied softly.

“My dear, you’re dealing with someone who has never known love as a grown man,” Vivienne clarified. “It’s _both_. At least until he realizes how completely foolish he’s been.”

“I’m sure he had his reasons—” Ellana began.

“Yes, my dear. But they are not _good_ reasons,” Vivienne said. “Go, see Your Commander. Find out the reason for his summons. But before you go—” Vivienne put Ellana’s and her teacups down onto a nearby table and got to her feet, bringing Ellana with her. “Remember how beautiful, talented, and powerful you are. _Know_ it. _Own_ it.” She waved her off. “Now go.”

~~~

“You asked to see me, Commander?” Ellana asked coolly.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Inquisitor,” replied Cullen. It had been two weeks since he’d watched her run crying from his office and this was the first time he had seen her since. There she was, all in purple velvet robes that plunged low and lifted high and teased maddeningly with slits in the skirt up to the hip on both sides. “I...know how... _busy_...you must be,” he stammered.

She nodded.

“Right,” he began. “I’ve found where the Red Templars come from. Therinfal Redoubt.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Isn’t that the _same_ place you wanted to send me before? Because the mages were _so_ unsafe?”

Cullen paused. “...Yes.”

“Ah,” Ellana replied. “So in essence, you were going to send me into a fortress full of Red Templars. Because... _mages_.”

Cullen blinked.

“You know, Commander,” she intoned. “it’s not a weakness to admit when you are wrong, that perhaps you had made a mistake in judgement. _Ever_.”

“Noted,” he replied.

“Because somehow, I doubt that Red Templars were going to help me seal the Breach,” she continued. “Just a guess.”

“Are you _done?_ ” Cullen asked. He continued without waiting for a reply. “Good. Maybe you’d like some information so you can _do your job_.”

“ _Of course_ , Commander,” Ellana replied. “I _always_ prefer educated planning to knee-jerk, fear-based responses.”

Cullen cleared his throat. “The Knights were fed red lyrium until they turned into monsters.” He paused. “Oh, you’re not going to make a witty rejoinder about how Templars don’t need the help to become monsters? I’m _shocked_.”

“No, Commander,” replied Ellana. “I don’t like to make broad generalizations about entire groups of people. Please,” she said, sitting on the corner of his desk and crossing her legs at the knee. “Do continue.”

Cullen watched, mesmerized, as the slit in Ellana’s skirt slid open. As they are wont to do.

_Maker’s...breath…_

“I beg your pardon, Commander?” Ellana asked.

_Had I said it out loud?_ Cullen shook his head. “What are you doing on my desk?” he asked.

“I wish to sit,” she said matter-of-factly, “and you don’t have any extra chairs.”

Cullen sighed and ran his hand through his hair before leaning against the nearest wall and tapping his forehead against it repeatedly.

“What are you doing?” Ellana asked with an amused lilt to her voice.

“Templar focusing exercise,” replied Cullen. “You wouldn’t know about it because you were never in a Circle.”

“Ah.”

“Where was I?” asked Cullen.

“Would you like me to take notes, Commander?” Ellana asked. “It’s not in my job description, but I’m... _flexible_.” 

Cullen turned around to look at her. She was looking up at something, leaning back slightly, supporting herself with her hands behind her. The way she was arching her back...made her breasts thrust more prominently into his eyeline.

“Ellana?” he asked, softly.

“Where does the ladder go?” she asked.

“My bedroom,” Cullen replied. _I should have said personal quarters, but…_

“That must be _hard_...I mean, difficult. When you’re tired,” observed Ellana. “My bedroom has stairs leading up to it. It’s _much_ easier to get to.” She turned back to him and smiled at him for the first time in two weeks. “You were saying? About the red lyrium?”

Cullen positively ached for her. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Samson. Samson took over after their corruption was complete.” His voice slid into a growl at the end as he moved from desire to hatred.

“The name sounds familiar,” said Ellana. “I know he was at Haven, but I mean from before. When I…” her voice dropped into a gentle whisper, “when we met in Kirkwall.”

“Samson and I shared quarters,” Cullen replied. “And he...covered my post while I accompanied you through the city. He was addicted to lyrium, and was expelled from the order not long after...you and I met.” He took a deep breath and continued. “But red lyrium is nothing like the lyrium given by the Chantry. Its power comes with a terrible madness,” he said scornfully.

Ellana nodded. “I think I figured that out in Haven. Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“They cannot be allowed to gain strength!” Cullen answered fervently. “The Red Templars still require lyrium. If we find their source, we can weaken them, and their leader.”

Ellana raised an eyebrow and crossed her legs in the other direction, inadvertently sliding the toe of her boot up the front of Cullen’s thigh as she did so. “I can’t tell who you’re angrier at.”

“Hmm?” Cullen asked, his eyes shut tight and biting his lip.

“I said, I don’t know if you’re angrier at. Corypheus or Samson.?” Ellana clarified.

“I don’t know,” Cullen answered, stepping forward so that he was standing over her. “Samson, at least...should...know better,” he whispered.

Ellana straightened suddenly, and slipped off his desk. Cullen inhaled the scent of her hair as she moved past. Citrus, vanilla, cedar...he could have identified more if she hadn’t been moving so damned quickly. He wanted to push her back onto his desk, pin her down by her wrists as he stretched her arms over her head so he could breathe her in, taste her skin, slide his other hand under that wicked skirt of hers and make her beg for—

“Cullen?” Ellana whispered. _Damn._ She had been doing so well, trying to keep things as impersonal as possible, but she’d gotten too confident and let down her guard. From the glassy-eyed stare on the Commander’s face, however, it was likely that he may not have heard her.

_If she says my name again, I’m going to lose my mind_. He had craved the sound of her voice as she said it, caressing it with her Dalish lilt, making the sweetest music he’d ever heard. _The only way it could be more intoxicating would be if she were moaning it in my ear, holding on to me for dear life as I gripped her by the hips and thrusted—_

_Oh, Maker. I am going to have to sit down lest she glance in the wrong direction._

“Commander?”

Cullen looked down at his desk. At his notes. ‘Red lyrium caravans’. _Right_. He cleared his throat. “Caravans of red lyrium are being smuggled along trade roads. Investigating them could lead to where its being mined.” He exhaled. “If you confront them, be wary. Anything connected to Samson will be well guarded.”

Cullen looked back down at his desk. Was he...finished? Ellana’s curiosity got the better of her. “This is personal for you,” she observed.

Still staring at various correspondence he’d received, he came upon a message Scout Harding had recovered on her travels through the Emerald Graves and opened it.

“Cullen,

Dalish is all grown up, I see. 

She’s lovely. I wonder how she tastes. 

Samson”

“You have _no_ idea,” Cullen growled.

Ellana closed the door behind her. She turned to Vivienne, who’d been standing outside the Commander’s study the entire time. Vivienne nodded at Ellana approvingly, then strode back to the throne room without a word.


	5. The Wound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen confides in Ellana.

Ellana had gotten Cullen the intel on Samson, just like he’d asked. She even sent it back by raven instead of waiting to hand it to him personally. She then went on to destroy dozens of caches of red lyrium before finally returning to Skyhold. _Maybe he and Varric could celebrate together._

So when she waltzed into Cullen’s study, she was expecting more than the weary, wary gaze that greeted her.

“As leader of the Inquisition, you…” Cullen sighed heavily as he leaned over his desk looking exhausted. “There’s something I _must_ tell you.”

“Commander, I—” she began.

“ _Ellana_ , you and I...we are long past titles, don’t you think?” He cracked his neck. “I’m sorry I ever took things in that direction. It was...unworthy of me.” He laughed bitterly. “The ironic thing about all this is...I was _trying_ to protect you—”

“And you have!” exclaimed Ellana.

“ _No!_ ” snapped Cullen. “I almost let you _die_. That you survived Haven was not because of me. It was in _spite_ of me.”

“You _waited_ for me, Cullen,” she said, crossing the room to stand near to him. “When everyone else had given up, you kept watch. If you hadn't, I would have died in the snow.” She moved as if to reach out and stroke his cheek but hesitated, and instead patted him gently on the shoulder. “You’re my hero,” she whispered. “You can tell me anything, anything at all, and I’ll listen.”

“Right,” he said tersely. “Thank you.” Cullen paused before continuing. “Lyrium grants Templars our abilities, but it _controls_ us as well.” He looked down at the Lyrium kit on his desk. “Those cut off suffer—some go mad, others...die. We have secured a reliable source of lyrium for the Templars here, but I...no longer take it.”

“You—you’re willing to risk death and insanity?” asked Ellana with a tremble in her voice. “How long has this been going on?”

“Since I joined the Inquisition,” he answered softly. “It’s been months now.”

Cullen was still staring down at the lyrium kit. He hadn't looked back up at her once. 

“Is this why you've been acting the way you have?” Ellana asked.

“I have been acting the way I have for _several_ reasons,” Cullen answered. “ _None_ of them are _your_ fault. It is _torture_...for me to think of all the pain I've been causing you since we came to Skyhold.”

“Cullen, it’s al—”

“It is NOT alright,” Cullen interrupted. “I know you’re trying to make me feel better, Ellana, but there is nothing right or good about making you cry.” He lowered his voice to a ragged whisper. “I don’t deserve y—to have you in my life.”

“I—I don’t want you to die,” whispered Ellana.

“It hasn't killed me yet,” said Cullen. “After what happened in Kirkwall, I...I will _not_ be bound to the Order—or that _life_ —any longer. Whatever the suffering, I accept it.”

Finally, he stood up and looked at her again. “But, I will not put the Inquisition at risk. I've asked Cassandra to...watch me. If my ability to lead is compromised, I will be relieved from duty.”

Ellana tentatively approached Cullen. “C—can I?” She held her arms open to him.

Cullen nodded his assent and she wrapped him in a warm embrace. She felt his shoulders sag and tremble, and she reached up and stroked his hair. He in turn, enveloped her. 

Ellana was silent for a long time, worried that if she spoke, she would break the spell. Finally, she whispered, “Does it hurt?”

“I can endure it,” he replied, his chin resting on top of her head.

Ellana, fighting tears, closed her eyes. The thought of him in pain, the thought of losing him... _Sylaise, Hearthkeeper, Healer, please ease his suffering. Do not let Falon'Din take him from me. I could not bear it._ “I’m so proud of you, Cullen,” Ellana said finally. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I just wanted you to know...in case you should come by to see me, and I’m not—” Cullen sighed, and his voice took on a more officious tone as he stepped out of Ellana’s arms and turned away from her to look out the window. “The Inquisition’s Army must _always_ take priority. Should anything happen...I will defer to Cassandra’s judgment.”


	6. Ellana's Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Music soothes even the most savage of beasts.

Ellana sat on the edge of the battlements and looked up at the stars that trembled above Skyhold. The spring weather had become quite mild, with a sweet breeze that caressed her face and hair the way she imagined a lover would. It was a perfect night. Or it would have been. She closed her eyes and imagined that Cullen was holding her from behind.

Ever since he’d told her about the lyrium, he’d been needing space. That much was certain. He had, as she’d heard it, been learning to delegate a little more, to not overwork himself _quite_ so much, to be a _little_ more social. Just...not with her. These last few days, he had been spending time at the Herald’s Rest with Dorian, Bull, and Varric till the wee hours of the morning. When Dorian had recovered (to an extent) in the late mornings, he would unfailingly give Ellana a full report over brunch, that is, that Cullen was fine other than the fact that he never seemed to want to go back to his quarters. Bull was the only one he allowed to tease him about her. Varric’s piercing questions would invariably hit too close to the heart, and Dorian himself was going to be most obviously biased in her favor.

“He misses you, my love,” Dorian would say. “Just be patient with him. It will be worth it.”

Ellana had, as of late been spending more time with Solas exploring her powers in the Fade, absorbing his stories of ruins and memories like a sponge. Solas in turn had been delighted by her curiosity and enthusiasm, her determination to set right the well-meaning mistakes of her fellow Dalish, and with the quickness in which she had been able to learn the art of walking in dreams.

For the time being, she had been sticking to spending her dreamtime with Solas. She didn’t want to violate Cullen’s trust, even if he would never know that her interference was anything more than a regular dream. Probably. The only people whom she had visited in the Fade other than Solas had been Cassandra (who was a surprise romantic) and Josephine (whose dreams were predictably gilded and almost cloying in their sweetness). Even then, those had been accidents. Cullen was the only one who tempted her to do it on purpose. It was almost like she could feel him pulling her towards him in the Fade, as if they were connected with a red thread, bound at the wrist.

Dorian had asked her that very morning about all the time she had been spending with Solas. He had tried to make the questions sound innocuous, but…

“Of course _I_ (he had emphasized the ‘I’) know there’s nothing going on, but you have to admit that _some_ (he had emphasized the ‘some’) people might get the wrong idea,” said Dorian.

_Crazy shemlen never say what they mean._

It felt like a night where she could rest her head on Cullen’s chest and together they could find the pictures drawn in the stars. She sighed and began to whistle a tune she’d heard played for Vivienne’s salon at the Ghislain estate.

~~~

He hadn’t expected her to accept him with such an open, forgiving heart. In a way, her kindness had made it worse; now he worried that her affection for him had turned to pity, to worry, that perhaps she was spending more time with Solas because there was little chance of the hedge mage dying or going mad anytime in the near future. And he, being one of the People, likely understood her in ways Cullen never could. No matter how many books he read on Dalish history and culture, no matter how many elvhen phrases he learned, he could never hope to catch up. And it wasn’t for a lack of trying. He’d just finished his copy of The Long Walk, his heart heavy with guilt for what the Andrastians had done to Ellana’s people. No wonder why she bristled at the title of Herald. Andraste’s followers had taken her people for allies against Tevinter and then turned on them when the elves refused to convert.

His dreams had been getting worse.

Ellana had replaced Neria as the figure he had failed to save, a two-faced goddess of lust and shame. Corypheus was understudying for Uldred, but the results were always the same. Though the basic narrative had remained unchanged, the pain was far worse. 

Now that he was no longer a boy of nineteen, he knew what love really was, and losing Ellana over and over...was excruciating. The lyrium that used to take the edge off his nightmares was no longer an option. Only one thing so far had worked to soothe him, and until this night, he’d been too self conscious to do it. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

It was late enough that the majority of Skyhold was fast asleep. Everyone else was low ranking enough that even if they recognized him, they would keep their mouths shut for fear of reprisal.

Cullen got up from his bed, rolled his neck from side to side, walked to his bedroom window, and...sang.

Too long I have traveled, soon I'll see her smiling,

The girl in Red Crossing I'm longing to see.

O, I know she is there, daisies in her hair,

Waiting by the Chantry to marry me.

It was an Orlesian folk song he’d learned during his Templar training, about the tragic love story of an elven boy and a human girl. A Templar could elect to receive vocal training to sing in the Chantry choir, which was a nice respite from overseeing Harrowings and hunting apostates. After he’d moved on to Kirkwall, he was of high enough rank that he didn’t have to spend all his time serving in the Circle, and so he took full advantage of the multiple choirs there, rehearsing every night of the week.

I've dreamed of the kiss I stole 'neath the arbor.

I've dreamed of the promise 'neath the old ash tree.

O, I know she is there, daisies in her hair,

Waiting by the chantry to marry me.

It was the only social activity that he had enjoyed participating in with his fellow Templars. He hadn’t made very many friends amongst them, but even they could not deny that if they wanted grown adults to weep in sacred rapture during services, they would do well to give him a solo. Cullen was very, _very_ good at it.

One last stream to cross, one last hill to wander.

Until I reach the love I'm longing to see.

O, I know she is there, daisies in her hair,

Waiting by the chantry to marry me.

The song had taken on new significance to him since he’d met Ellana again. Though undeniably tragic, it was also... _incredibly_ romantic, and a rare moment, culturally, of humans actually recognizing elves as people with motivations and feelings equal to their own. So, he sang it for himself and he sang it for her. He sang the feelings he could not speak aloud without stumbling over the words.

Running through the streets, only silence follows.

Elven arrows sunk into the old ash tree.

O, I know she's there, daisies in her hair,

Waiting by the chantry to marry me.

It was sometime around the second verse when he heard the descant soprano melding with his tenor. He switched things up, taking the harmony, and giving her the melody. Together their voices soared into the sky and rang against the stones of the hold.

Ruby on the green, petals lost and drifting.

Take her to His side, Andraste hear my plea.

I found her lying there, daisies in her hair,

Waiting by the chantry to marry me.

Looking down from his window he saw her, sitting on the battlements, wearing the violet mage robes he’d given her months ago, and when she looked up at him, he did not turn away. 

There was a song to sing. And it wasn’t over yet, not by a long shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from: http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Codex_entry:_The_Girl_in_Red_Crossing


	7. Master and Apprentice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Ellana become closer as he teaches her how to use her powers and Cullen wonders what he could offer her.

Ellana sat on the floor in the upper library, resting her head against the inside of Dorian’s thigh as they both read; he searching for references to Corypheus in ancient Tevinter history and she reading about the geography of southern Ferelden. He looked down and over her shoulder to see what had her so engrossed.

“Picture books, my love? _Really?_ ” Dorian teased. “Don’t tell me that you’re one of those _illiterate_ elven barbarians.”

Ellana looked up at Dorian with a smirk. “There _are_ words in here, Pavus.”

“Honnleath,” he read aloud. “Doesn’t sound particularly exciting.”

“Actually, you’d be surprised. There was a statue there that used to stand in the center of town. Turns out it was a dormant dwarven golem. It was reactivated by the King and Queen of Ferelden when they were still just Grey Wardens.”

Huh,” replied Doran. “That _is_ odd.”

“Yes, there’s a whole passage about some mage that served with King Maric. The golem was his.”

Dorian’s curiosity was piqued. “How does a Fereldan mage come by the ownership of a sentient dwarven golem, I wonder?”

“ _Why?_ ” asked Ellana. “Are you getting ideas? You’re getting ideas, aren't you?”

“ _Maybe_ ,” replied Dorian. “All I’m saying is that if you plan on exploring any dwarven ruins, you’d better bring me along.”

“But then who would play chess with me?”

It was Cullen. He smiled upon seeing Ellana. “Hello, Ellana. I didn't see you there.”

“Likely, because you’d think the _last_ place you’d find her would be between my legs,” quipped Dorian. “Yet here she is. Full of surprises our Inquisitor is, don’t you think Commander?” he said with a wink. Dorian was a lot of things, but subtle wasn't one of them.

Cullen blushed a little, but recovered quickly. “She’s never boring,” he replied. “But, Bull might be _very_ interested in hearing about how she came to be there.” Then he smirked.

Dorian stared at Cullen. “Maker’s breath, Commander! You made it through an _entire_ sentence of innuendo without stammering once! What will happen next, I wonder?”

“I know I am _very_ curious as to how things will unfold,” said Ellana with an inviting smile that took Cullen’s breath away. She held her hand out to him and he gently pulled her to her feet.

“Unfortunately, that will have to wait, da’len.” It was Solas, standing just behind Cullen. He moved to interpose himself between them. “Pardon me, Commander. I must borrow Ellana. It’s time for her lessons.”

Cullen bit his lip. “Of course, Solas. I wouldn't begrudge her—”

“Good,” said Solas. He led Ellana away and down the winding staircase nearby.

When they were out of earshot, Dorian sighed and looked up at Cullen. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Dorian,” Cullen replied quietly, as he put a book away on the shelf. 

“Your fist is clenched,” Dorian observed.

Cullen looked down at his right hand. “So it is.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Dorian.

“No,” Cullen answered.

Dorian closed his book and laid it down in the window sill behind him. “You’re _jealous_ , Commander. It's all right to admit as much.”

"He can give her the Fade, Dorian." Cullen replied. "What could I possibly offer her that could compete with the Walking Dream itself?"

"You think Solas is in love with her?" asked Dorian.

" _Everyone_ is at least a little in love with her," answered Cullen. "Even you. Admit it."

"Insomuch as I could ever love a woman, I love Ellana," admitted Dorian. "But you're forgetting one thing, Commander."

"And what is that?" Cullen asked.

"What, or who _she_ wants," Dorian answered. "For example, you may want to take a gander at her reading material."

Cullen took the open volume from Dorian's hands. "Honnleath."

Dorian began to recite from memory. "Cullen Stanton Rutherford. Born 9:11 Dragon. _Honnleath_. Southern Ferelden. Apprenticed to the Templars at age thirteen. Took his vows at age eighteen and was assigned to Kinloch Hold."

"Stop."

Dorian continued unabated, "Most of the information about Kinloch Hold in your Inquisition file is redacted, save for one interesting piece of information that isn't found anywhere else that I've seen. You...are the _youngest_ Knight-Captain in Kinloch Hold's entire history."

Cullen gulped.

"Luckily for me, there are more records on Kinloch Hold in existence. There was a massacre of the Templars there eleven years ago. The mages’ tower had been sealed off with only a small handful of Templars, including the Knight-Commander, outside of it. Inside was the youngest Knight-Captain in the tower's history and twenty-four other Templars." 

"Stop it."

"The Templars, all of them, save one, were slaughtered by demons and abominations. According to the Knight-Captain's own account, _at least half_ of them were killed in front of him, in an effort to get him to break, and this was while a desire demon took reprieves from subjecting him to psychosexual torture for _thirty-six hours_. The Knight-Captain was _nineteen_."

Cullen sighed and rested his head against a nearby bookcase. “You must think me a monster, calling for the deaths of all those mages.”

Dorian stood up and wrapped an arm around Cullen’s shoulders.“Were I in your place, Commander, I would have made the same call you did. Blood magic is abhorrent and evil. And any First Enchanter worth their salt should have been able to not only sniff out a man like Uldred, but they should have been able to stop him _and_ his lackeys. As far as I am concerned, the blood of all those Templars are on the First Enchanter’s hands. _Not_ yours.”

It was the first time anyone had ever said as much to Cullen. “Thank you,” he whispered. “How do you know all of this? How—how long have you known?”

“I’ve known since Ellana and I left to stop Alexius in Redcliffe. I like to know who I’m working with,” Dorian replied.

“A wise policy,” Cullen said, “when one has the option.”

“Which brings me to the rest of your story, the part _everybody_ knows about. Mostly. Youngest Knight-Captain in Kirkwall’s history, later the youngest Knight-Commander after the most fortunate death of your superior. You were there for ten years. From what I’ve been able to piece together, you met Ellana three years into your tenure as Knight-Captain, which is when you arranged the theft of the Litany of Adralla for her. A lot of lives were saved because of that. And you of all people knew just how essential the Litany was, more than perhaps anyone else alive, save the King and Queen of Ferelden. You could not have saved Ellana and her people without Kinloch Hold. But _why_ did you help her? She was an apostate. You effectively stole an important tool from the Chantry to give to a Dalish mage. Why?”

Cullen shrugged his shoulders. “Ellana wasn’t like other mages. She was not afraid of me. She...trusted me instinctively. Even Hawke was a little tense at first, but Ellana?” He sighed. “Fearless and...fiercely joyful. She...wrenched my heart wide open, and I...I couldn't help myself. There was nothing else, no one else, like her in Kirkwall...or anywhere else I’d ever been. So, I arranged for Varric to...acquire the book, then took her to stay at Hawke’s mansion in Hightown until the job was done. She was...asleep in my arms, or at least I thought she was, when I carried her to a guest room, laid her down on the bed...and kissed her goodbye. According to Cole, she was awake at the time, and remembers everything.”

“She wanted you to stay with her,” Dorian said.

“I have never felt so powerfully drawn to anyone in my entire life,” Cullen whispered huskily. “But I wasn't in a place where I could allow myself to care for her. Not in the way she deserved.”

“And now?” asked Dorian.

Cullen smirked. “What are you trying to get at, Dorian? I’m sure it wasn't to show off your flawless memory and extensive research abilities.”

“Flatterer,” Dorian laughed. “No, believe it or not, this is not about me. Or you, really. This is about Ellana, and what she wants. She wants the man who went through all those things and came out the other side. She wants _you_ , Cullen, and no one else. Regardless of how anyone _else_ might feel.”

~~~

Ellana and Solas walked through the snows of Haven. She was glad to see that so much of it was intact after everything that happened, but was confused as to reason for their return. “Why here?” she asked.

“Haven is familiar,” Solas replied as he walked ahead. “It will always be important to you.”

Ellana noticed Cullen’s tent and ran her fingertips along the material as she walked. “We talked about that already.”

He led her to what had once been her prison cell. “I sat beside you while you slept, studying the anchor.”

Ellana smiled warmly. “I’m glad someone was watching over me.”

“You were a mystery,” replied Solas, smiling back. “You still are. I ran every test I could imagine. Searched the Fade, yet found nothing. Cassandra suspected duplicity. She threatened to have me executed as an apostate if I didn't produce results!”

Ellana smirked. “Cassandra’s like that with everyone.”

Solas laughed. “Yes,” he said, and led her outside.

“You were never going to wake up,” he continued. “How _could_ you? A mortal, sent physically through the Fade!” He stopped and looked at her. “I was frustrated, frightened. The spirits I may have consulted had been driven away by the Breach. Although I wished to help, I had no faith in Cassandra, or she in me. I was ready to flee.”

“But you stayed,” observed Ellana.

“I did,” Solas replied. He resumed walking and she followed after. “I told myself, ‘one more attempt to seal the rifts!’ I tried, and failed. No ordinary magic would affect them. I watched the rifts expand and grow, resigned myself to flee, and then—”

Ellana’s mind was filled with the image of Solas holding her by the wrist, pointing the anchor at the rift.

He turned back to her. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation. You had sealed it with a gesture! And right then, I felt the _whole world_ change.”

Ellana raised her eyebrow. “Felt the whole world... _change?_ ”

“A figure of speech,” Solas replied with a smile.

She smiled back and rolled her eyes. “I _know_ that, it’s just—”

“Ellana,” Solas said elatedly as he took her by the hand. “You change _everything!_ ”

She was shocked by the intensity of his attentions. “You’re... _welcome?_ ”

Solas paused a moment, then said. “I’m sorry, that was...inappropriate. Even here.”

Ellana raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean, even here?”

“Where do you think we _were?_ ” Solas asked, his smile returning. 

“This...isn't _real_ ,” she answered.

“That’s...a matter of debate,” said Solas. “Probably best discussed after you,” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “wake up!”

Ellana sat straight up in her bed, confused, not knowing how she’d gotten there.


	8. Checkmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King takes Queen. Or is it the other way around?

Cullen began to set up the pieces of the chess table that sat in the Skyhold garden. His opponent, as always, was late. After he’d finished preparing the board, Cullen took some time to look around and admire Ellana’s work. Her vision had made the place come alive as a sanctum of healing and reflection. The day he’d met her (again), he had unknowingly signed a paper that assigned her the duty of fulfilling requisitions in the field, in addition to all the other work she was doing when she left base. This day was the first he hadn't regretted that oversight. The personal touch she gave to Skyhold made everything he saw around him carry an unmistakable imprint of her. He breathed in the sweet scent of the blooming lilac tree whose branches stretched out above him and smiled. 

Dorian took his seat opposite him. “Lovely weather we’ve been having,” he said, as he contemplated the board. “Have you heard about Blackwall? He’s been sneaking out of Skyhold to pick flowers for Josephine.” He moved a white pawn forward.

“Does she know yet?” asked Cullen, narrowing his eyes and moving the first black pawn.

“No, she still thinks its from a Secret Admirer.” Dorian tilted his head and decided on his strategy. Cole finally had to tell Leliana who it was from so she’d stop checking them for poison!” He moved a white piece.

Cullen snorted. “Is Cole the source for _all_ your gossip these days?” He continued to contemplate his next move.

“Who better than a spirit who can read minds and get anywhere he wants to go?” Dorian said with a grin before sobering. “Cullen, I think I should explain something to you. The day Ellana and I came back—”

“It’s all right, Dorian. I trust you implicitly,” Cullen interrupted. He took his turn, moving another black piece.

Dorian smiled warmly. “All the same. I remember our closeness was a source of contention between you and I at first. Ellana has no doubt told you that I remind her of her brother?”

“Her twin brother, Evariel. Yes,” answered Cullen.

“What I didn’t tell you was why _I_ was so affectionate with her.” Dorian took a deep breath and slid another white piece forward. “When I was a boy—”

Cullen smirked. “Is this going to be one of _those_ stories?”

“ _What_ kind of stories? asked Dorian.

“The ‘and that’s when I knew I wasn't attracted to women’ stories.” Cullen moved a black piece. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Dorian. Preferring the company of the same sex is not as much of a taboo in Ferelden as it is in Tevinter.”

“I’m afraid _this_ story…” Dorian’s voice became melancholy, “is not as _amusing_ as all that.” He moved a white piece.

Cullen looked up sharply. “I—I’m sorry!” He shook his head. “It’s hard to tell when you’re being serious sometimes. _Please_ ,” he said as he moved a black piece, “tell me what’s on your mind.”

Dorian made a sweeping gesture over the chess table with his hand, signaling that they were to take a brief break from the game. “When I was a boy, growing up in Tevinter, my father had slaves.”

“Like you do,” said Cullen.

“Quite,” said Dorian. “He was a fair master, considering. Never beat them, fed them good food, educated them, and never used them in rituals. My father…” Dorian winced. “... _hated_ blood magic.”

Cullen nodded.

“One of his elven slaves had a daughter my age. Bright little thing. White blonde hair. Violet eyes. Gift for magic. It...wasn’t Ellana, if _that’s_ what you’re wondering,” Dorian began. “Her name was Bella. She was my playmate and we were...inseparable. Being an only child and her being my age, I came to see her as a—”

“Twin sister?” Cullen asked.

“Yes,” Dorian replied. “Slavery in Tevinter works on the indenture system, that is, if you survive, it can conceivably be...not permanent. Bella’s mother worked off her debt and my father let her go.”

“Your father sounds like an honorable man,” said Cullen.

“He _was_. But I was ten and heartbroken. Bella and I had known each other since we were three,” Dorian said with a sigh. “Anyway, not long after my father released her, Bella’s mother fell on hard times. She sent word to my father, but he was out of town on magister business and didn’t come back until after she’d gotten so desperate that she’d sold Bella to a magister named Danarius, who promised to... _hone_ her natural talents.”

Cullen got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d never seen Dorian so serious for such an extended period of time, about himself anyway.

“My father _tried_ to buy her back from Danarius, but he refused him. Said he had something _special_ planned for her.” Dorian looked down at the chessboard. “He was working on a lyrium experiment. He created tattoos of lyrium and drew them all over her, trying to turn her into some sort of supermage thrall. It drove her mad.” He paused to compose himself. “And she jumped out a window not two weeks after the procedure was complete.”

Dorian closed his eyes. “When I met Ellana, it was like getting Bella back,” he said. “I _know_ she’s her own person, and I don’t conflate the two, but one of the first things that I told Ellana was that I would protect her. Never again will I allow one of my own people to harm someone I care about. Ever." Dorian opened his eyes and a few tears beaded his eyelashes. "And that...is the story.”

Cullen got up from his chair and held his hand out to Dorian. Dorian took Cullen’s hand and was pulled to his feet and into a hug. The ex-Templar whispered to the Tevinter mage, “I thank the Maker every day that she has your friendship and that when you’re out there together, you’re watching her back. Thank you!”

Dorian’s arms wrapped around Cullen’s shoulders. “It’s _nothing_ short of a pleasure. You _know_ that.” He wiped at his eyes and exhaled before sitting back down. “Well. We should get my sound thrashing of you over with, though, don’t you think?” he asked with a wink. 

Cullen sat hunched forwards in his seat, his fingers steepled, while Dorian sat back, legs crossed, and relaxed.

“Gloat all you like,” Cullen said with a smirk. “I have this one.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow at Cullen. “Are you... _sassing_ me, Commander? I didn’t know you had it in you!”

Cullen sighed and made a move on the board. “Why do I _even_ —” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ellana approaching and he tipped over a couple of pieces in his surprise. “Ellana!” He moved to get up.

“Leaving, are you?” asked Dorian. This time it was his turn to smirk. “Does this mean I _win?_ ”

Cullen immediately sat back down with a stubborn expression.

Ellana crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you two playing nice?” she asked.

“I’m... _always_ nice,” Dorian replied, ostensibly to her since she’d asked the question, but he looked pointedly at Cullen when he’d said it. “You need to come to terms with my inevitable victory,” he said to Cullen, while he took his turn. “You’ll feel _much_ better.”

“Really?” Cullen made his move. “Because I just won. And I feel _fine_.” He sat back in his chair with the most self-contented expression anyone had ever seen across his face.

Dorian stared at the board, then looked back up at Cullen with a sly look. “Don’t get smug. There will be no living with you.” He looked from Cullen to Ellana and back before getting up and excusing himself.

Cullen looked over at Ellana and smiled. “I should return to my duties as well...unless _you_ would care for a game?”

Ellana, Stormbringer of Clan Lavellan, Herald of Andraste, and the Lady Inquisitor Herself had never played a game of chess in her life. But that wasn't going to stop her from spending some quality time with Cullen, now that he was seeking her out. “Prepare the board, Commander,” she said with an impish grin.

While she took her seat, Cullen reset the pieces on the board. “As a child, I played this with my sister,” he told her. “She would get this stuck-up grin whenever she won—which was _all_ the time. My brother and I practiced together for weeks. The look on her face the day I _finally_ won...Between serving the Templars and the Inquisition, I haven’t seen them in years.” Cullen made his first move. “I wonder if she...still plays.”

“You have siblings?” asked Ellana.

“Two sisters and a brother,” answered Cullen.

“Where are they now?” she asked as she made her first move. _It’s the little ones that go first, right? Oh good, he didn’t laugh at me. I must have done that right._

“They moved to South Reach after the Blight. I do not write them as often as I should.” He looked down at the board realizing that he’d been watching Ellana’s face instead of her hands. “Ah, it’s my turn.” He made his move, then stretched his legs. He blushed slightly when he realized that the toe of his boot had slid up and under her skirt. 

But he did not remove it.

Ellana giggled as she felt Cullen caress her leg playfully under the table. She gently kicked him with her bare toes. _It's sweet that he's humoring me like this when there is no chance whatsoever of me winning._ “You should keep in practice for when you see your sister again,” she said. 

She picked up the Chancellor piece and contemplated her next move, rolling it between her fingers absentmindedly and indulging the bad habit she usually reserved for her pens, which was putting it in her mouth, head first.

Cullen gasped and, surprised, Ellana clumsily dropped the piece...right into the cerise leather corset of her dress. “Oh dear,” she said. “What an _awkward_ situation!”

Cullen just stared at her silently as she hunted for the fallen piece between her breasts. When she’d finally retrieved it, she looked at him and her eyes grew wide. “Cullen...are these _your_ pieces?” she asked.

He nodded slowly.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, horrified. “I’m _so_ sorry!” She moved as to wipe the piece on her skirt, but Cullen leaned forward in his seat, reached across the table, and intercepted her hand.

“That’s... _not_ necessary,” he said before releasing her hand and sitting back down. 

Ellana laughed nervously and quickly made her move. Cullen peered at her over his folded hands.

“Are you _sure_ you want to do that?” he asked, smirking.

“Did I...do something wrong?” she asked, wide-eyed.

“No, I was just—” Cullen stopped suddenly as he felt Ellana’s foot moving up his trouser leg.

“How about now?” she asked. As she rested her tiny foot in his lap, she looked up at him through her eyelashes, her cheeks flushed. “Is this... _wrong?_ ”

Cullen closed his eyes. “No.”

“ _Your_ move, Commander,” she whispered. 

Cullen’s eyes flew open, and he fixed them on Ellana before he looked around them surreptitiously. Out of the corner of his vision, he beheld Mother Giselle chatting with a female Templar named Lysette. He doubted that he could dive under her skirt fast enough that they wouldn't notice, so Option Two it would have to be. Holding her gaze, Cullen gave her a sly smile and lightly slid his fingertip along the bottom of her foot. After she sighed in pleasure, he started tickling her.

Ellana jerked her foot away, laughing, and pouted comically. “Spoilsport,” she teased, until she too noticed the ladies of the Chantry nearby. “ _Oh_ ,” she said.

Cullen smiled and whispered. “Another time perhaps?”

They played in silence for a few minutes, then Cullen stopped and looked at her in astonishment. “I can’t remember the last time we’ve gone this long without discussing the Inquisition—or related matters. To be honest, I appreciate the distraction.”

Ellana smiled at him. “We should spend more time together like this, just the two of us.”

He brightened. “I would—like that.”

“Me too,” she said without thinking.

Cullen’s gaze softened, and he lowered his voice to a husky whisper that made Ellana’s insides turn to custard. “You _said_ that.” He held her gaze for quite some time before looking back down at the board shyly. “We should...finish our game. Right. My turn?”

All too soon, the game was over, with Cullen as the victor. He sat back in his chair, satisfied as a cat with a saucer of milk. “And this one’s mine.”

“It seems luck favored you today,” Ellana remarked.

Cullen leaned forward, rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. “So it has,” he said with a smile.


	9. En Garde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana has chosen to be a Knight-Enchanter and needs sparring partners to prepare for a duel.

Cullen came up from behind Ellana and covered her eyes with one gloved hand. He whispered into her ear, “Hold out the front of your skirt like you’re going to catch something with it.”

She shivered pleasantly at the sensation of his lips and breath at her ear and smiled. “What is it?”

“A _present_ ,” he whispered back in a sing-song voice. Whatever it was, Cullen was very excited about it.

Ellana complied, and Cullen dropped ten small chunks of something hard and metallic into her waiting lap, one by one. “Some of my men just returned from the Hissing Wastes at my request. They gathered this just for you. Open your eyes!”

Ellana peered down at the sea foam green and silver blue pieces of metal in her lap. _Lazurite_. Slowly, an excited squeal began to build, ascending through her body from the tips of her toes to the tip of her tongue. “Cullen!” she screamed. “Oh, thank you!” She turned her head and smiled at him as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind. She inhaled deeply, cherishing the smell of him; all leather and metal polish and peaches and sandalwood and amber and wonderful and perfect.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, releasing Ellana and crossing in front of her so that he could better see the happiness on her face. 

Ellana looked up at Cullen. Something was different about him since she’d come back from negotiating an alliance with the Blades of Hessarian. His hair was slightly lighter, his skin slightly darker.“You know, Commander,” she said with a raised eyebrow, “with all the gifts you’ve gotten me since I joined the Inquisition, people are bound to start talking. If they haven’t already.”

“Mmm,” said Cullen. “And what do you think they’ll say?”

“That we are...what do the Orlesians call it again?” she looked down at her lap. “ _Affianced?_ ”

Cullen was silent for a little too long before he remembered to laugh. _She’s joking. Just teasing me_. “And with more Orlesians showing up at court, it’s only going to get worse," he said. "And I thought my soldiers were gossipy.” He lifted Ellana’s chin gently so that she was looking up at him. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go see Dagna, silly girl!”

~~~

When Ellana walked into the Undercroft, she was immediately hit by a snowball to the face. 

“Oh! Lady Inquisitor!” gasped a giggling Dagna. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect Harritt to be spry enough to dodge that.”

“It’s all right, Dagna,” Ellana replied, as she wiped her face. “Listen, I—”

Dagna lowered her voice conspiratorially. “You’ve got the lazurite, don’t you? It’s all over the barracks that the Commander went all the way to the Hissing Wastes _himself_ to get it.”

Ellana tilted her head. “You mean he sent his men, right?”

Dagna shook her head vigorously. “You headed off for the Storm Coast and the Commander left as soon as you did. For the Hissing Wastes. With the Chargers.” She giggled. “You know, I think he _might_ be sweet on you. Just a little!”

Ellana was dumbfounded. _Why didn’t he tell me?_ She was still standing there speechless when Dagna tugged on her arm and led her towards the forge.

“Come on, Lady Inquisitor! Let’s have a look at these schematics. Maybe I can modify this hilt a little more to your advantage. You have such little hands!”

~~~

When she and Dagna were finished forging the hilt, Ellana knelt and presented it to Commander Helaine with her hands outstretched above her head..

“Elven longsword design. Simple, yet elegant. Expected,” Commander Helaine said. “Read the text. Practice. You will have your first duel in one week.”

 _Duel?_ Ellana shrugged. _Well, I’d better prepare myself then._

~~~

“No shield?” asked Cullen as he tossed Ellana a practice sword.

Ellana caught it. “Magic barrier. Finished memorizing the spell this morning. Also, I can phase through...things. And people. Eventually. That might take some ti—”

“Phase through?” asked Cullen, picking up a practice blade of his own.

“Yes,” she answered, tapping the bottom of her boots. “And if I re-materialize inside someone, they’re _giblets!_ ”

Cullen stared at her. 

“I’m sorry, that sounds disgusting,” she said, suddenly self conscious. 

Cullen snickered. “ _Giblets._ ”

Ellana swung her sword at Cullen and hit him in the arm. “Ow!”

“Wow, that’s heavy!” Ellana exclaimed as she barely blocked a counter-strike from Cullen. “I bet you get quite a workout doing this all the time.”

“One does build a significant amount of upper body strength and definition, yes,” replied Cullen. “All you have to do is look at The Iron Bull to see that.”

“I’d _rather_ look at you,” Ellana answered with a shy smile.

Cullen dropped his sword and Ellana flushed crimson.

“Y—you what?” he asked.

“Cullen, _really?_ Have you _never_ looked in a mirror?” Ellana asked. “All that armor, every day, for so long...wielding that sword and shield...underneath all that, you must be…” She trailed off as Cullen began to reach for the clasps of his armor. One by one, the pieces fell to the ground: gauntlets, pauldrons, breastplate, until he got to the shirt he wore underneath it all.

“Wait,” said Ellana. “Your gloves,” she remarked, pointing at them, “ _might_ make that difficult.” She drew close to him and whispered, “Let me?”

He nodded silently.

Ellana’s hands reached for Cullen’s shirt and tugged the bottom out from under his trousers. Then slowly, so slowly, she unbuttoned each button from bottom to top. Her hands were shaking by the time she’d reached the last button, to the point that Cullen laid his hands on top of hers and helped her to push his shirt open. She gasped. 

There was nothing delicate about him, except perhaps the light dusting of blonde curls on his chest and stomach, the tight pink nipples. If there was a way a man could look even more imposing without armor or clothes on, he had somehow managed to do it. Broad-shouldered, lean, and muscular; beautiful, but deadly, he looked like he could snap her in half with little effort at all. “Cullen! You’re— _exquisite!_ ” Then she grinned cheekily. “And now I know that your blush doesn’t stop at the base of your neck.” She impulsively reached out to touch him, but stopped herself. _Crisis averted._

Averted, that is, until Cullen took her hand, kissed her fingertips, and guided it to rest over his heart. Ellana let her fingers sink into the flesh beneath them, surprised at its suppleness, and at the swiftness of the insistent pounding deeper within. He whispered, “You are—”

“Commander!” yelled Cassandra. “ _There_ you are!”

In the time it took for Ellana’s head to quirk in the direction of the Seeker’s voice, Cullen had released her hand and had begun to take off at full sprint towards his study.

Cassandra looked at Ellana and smirked at her with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

~~~

Ellana sat on the edge of the battlements, swinging her legs up and down. Out of nowhere, Cole appeared next to her. She had begun to get used to that from him. “You’ve sparred with Cassandra, Blackwall, and The Iron Bull,” he observed.

“Cullen too,” she added.

“ _That,_ ” Cole said, “wasn’t sparring.”

Ellana sighed, “Fair enough.”

Cole turned to her. “I _want_ to help.”

“With Cullen?” she asked.

She could swear she saw the faintest of smiles amble across Cole’s face, gone as quickly as it appeared. “You don’t need any help with Cullen. Not anymore. You’ll see.” He stood up. “No, I mean with your sparring. Your strength is your speed, not force. Finesse.” Then he drew his daggers.

~~~

At the end of the week, Ellana stood opposite Vivienne with Commander Helaine presiding. “Sahlin!” she shouted. And the duel was underway.

As their blades ignited with the power of the Fade, Vivienne charged towards Ellana. For the first time, Ellana noticed how statuesque the older woman truly was, and she just barely blocked her attack before her spirit blade would have split her skull in twain.

“Do not hold back, darling!” Vivienne shouted. “Strike me, if you _dare!_ ”

Ellana threw up a barrier. “Ha! Strike me. If you _can!_ ”

Their blades clashed again. Vivienne, moving more in straight lines, used her natural power to her advantage, while Ellana’s tactics were more circular. Spin. Strike. Counter. Repeat.

Vivienne chased Ellana towards a wall. Ellana got a toe hold in the wall, ran up the wall and flipped over Vivienne, knocking her henin off in the process. “Whoops!” 

“Point!” called out Commander Helaine.

Ellana got careless and forgot to refresh her barrier. Vivienne took advantage and struck her on the shoulder.

“Point!” 

While Vivienne relished her triumph, Ellana took the opportunity to strike her on the leg.

“Point!”

The women faced each other again and struck simultaneously. Vivienne slid her blade further and further up against Ellana’s so that she overpowered her, then kicked her backwards.

“Point!”

Vivienne again charged Ellana, who had yet to return to a standing position, and aimed for the thick muscle that attaches the neck to the shoulder. Ellana remained hunched over with her arms spread, and then, as Vivienne was about to strike, she disappeared. Vivienne ran through the space where Ellana would have been, unable to stop due to the momentum. Immediately after Vivienne passed through, Ellana re-materialized and tripped Vivienne with her outstretched arms.

“Halam!” shouted Commander Helaine, who cast Resurgence, healing both women of their wounds. Vivienne leaned down and extended her hand to Ellana, then pulled her to her feet. “Good match darling. You know, I saw you sparring against our warriors and I thought I was prepared for what you could dish out. But you surprised me, my dear. Whatever is your secret?”

Ellana smiled. “I just had one thought in my mind. You can’t hurt me.”


	10. The Heart Wants What It Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Heart wants what it wants. And Cullen could fight it no longer.

“Where have you been?” asked Ellana, having just shut the door behind her.

He had been in the middle of a meeting. Shapeley was briefing him on the events that had transpired in his absence, while Harding waited to hand him her report on the Exalted Plains. There was a mountain of paperwork on his desk and they were both scheduled to be in the War Room within the hour.

She was the Inquisitor, so naturally, everyone stopped to look at her and addressed her in a chorus of “Your Worship” and “Lady Inquisitor”. 

Except for Cullen. 

He stared down at his desk, knowing she had every right to be concerned about the fact that the last time she’d seen him, he’d run from her, shirtless, missing half his armor, and then went missing for a week.

“Excuse us,” she said. She wasn’t using the royal ‘we’, though it was perfectly within her capacity to do so at that point. No, this was far worse. She wanted to be alone with him and did not care who knew it.

Cullen’s men looked at him, waited for confirmation that they were being dismissed, words that would not, or more accurately, could not come.

Ellana would wait no longer, and he could not blame her. She uttered one word, “Please,” working magic that a hundred of his “Nows” never could, and when the last of Cullen’s men exited his study, she wove a new spell with her silence. It was so unlike her, that it forced Cullen to look up, to make sure that some desire demon had not taken her form to tempt him some more.

“South Reach,” he answered her, finally.

“To see your family?” she asked.

“Amongst other things, yes,” he replied.

She fell silent again, then turned her back on him. “I—I can’t do this with you anymore, Cullen.” She drew a ragged breath. “I am not your lion’s prey, to be toyed with and utterly consumed. This...much to your relief I’m sure, is the _last_ time I will engage in inappropriate, unwelcome, and unbecoming behavior towards you.”

_Is she saying what I think she is?_ He had so little experience in affairs of the heart, but...

“I am only one woman. I cannot overcome eleven years of bad experiences—” she had begun to say when Cullen crossed the room, took her hand in his, turned it over, and tenderly kissed her palm.

“You think this is about you being a Mage?” he breathed into her hand. He drew her wrist to his lips and kissed the inside of it. “Every time you walk out of those gates, there’s a chance that I will _lose_ you...forever." Cullen's voice trembled with emotion, and he paused in an effort to compose himself as best he could. "And you...you are the Herald of Andraste! Her Worship, The Lady Inquisitor—”

Ellana jerked her hand away. “Don’t. Don't you _dare_ use my titles and status as a wedge between us! I don’t want to be my titles to you, Cullen. I just want to be... _yours_.”

Cullen gasped. He reached for Ellana, capped her delicate shoulders, one in each hand, and traced her sides with his fingertips before letting his hands settle on her hips. “Mine?” he asked, leaning in close. “It seems too much to ask. But I _want_ to—”

The last thing Ellana saw before closing her eyes, was Cullen’s eyes, like molten gold and filled with aching desire, fluttering shut as he dipped towards her.

And then the door opened behind them. “Commander, I have Sister Leliana’s report!”

Ellana was really beginning to regret Cullen’s ‘open door’ policy. And soon, Shapeley would join her in that regret.

Cullen turned around to face his Lieutenant. “WHAT,” he growled.

“Sister Leliana’s report,” Shapeley replied. “You wanted it delivered without delay!”

Cullen loomed over the man, looking for all the world that he was going to put him through a brick wall.

“I’ll just—leave it on your desk then,” squeaked Shapeley, who did just that and then scurried out like a frightened mouse in a lion’s den.

Ellana sighed. “You have work to do. I can—”

But Cullen didn’t let her finish. He gripped the back of Ellana’s neck with one hand and her hip with the other then pulled her to him with a moan. Ellana opened to him like a flower blooming into life and she tasted the sweetness of his mouth with her tongue even as he caressed it with his own. Her knees gave way and together they slowly slid to the floor, holding on to each other for dear life.

Cullen surfaced to breathe and pressed his forehead against hers, He gasped, “I’ve waited... _so_...long—”

Ellana smiled at him. “Seven years.”

Cullen shook his head. “My whole life,” he whispered before he kissed her again.


	11. Love is All Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen's lyrium withdrawal rears its ugly head at the worst possible time.

Ellana panted, tugging on Cullen’s hair as he bit and sucked his way up her neck to her ear. He didn't care who saw the marks he left, as he was too delirious with passion to think very far ahead. Besides, the sounds she made for him were more intoxicating than even his most sinful fantasies had anticipated, ranging from delicate mewls to wanton moans, urging him on all the more.

As if he needed the encouragement.

He still hadn't figured out what to do with his hands. He worried that if he let them wander too much it would make it too difficult for him to stop. And they would have to stop. Eventually. _But not yet, not now_ , cried out every fiber of his being. For the moment, he was settling for tangling his fingers in Ellana’s hair or gripping her by the hips every time it seemed like she might fall off of his lap, which was often. 

Apparently, she was feeling a little lightheaded.

He was, too. His heart was racing and beads of sweat had started to trickle from his temples. But he didn't care. Cullen couldn't remember a time in his entire life when he’d ever felt so happy.

Ellana kissed him deeply and began to grind her hips against his, softly, tentatively at first, so much so that Cullen could have written it off as an accident. He wasn't too worried about it, though, at least he wasn't until she noticed what it was doing to him.

“C—c-cuuuuuuuullllllllllllllllllllennnnnnnnnnnn,” she sighed, trembled, and stretched out his name longer than he thought possible. “Is th-that y-you? For me?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he half-moaned, half-sighed. He took her hand and slid it between his legs so she could get a clear idea of just how badly he wanted her.

Ellana gasped, then smiled against his lips. “So _that’s_ what I've been desiring.” She kissed the corner of his mouth and slowly licked his scar. “I _knew_ there was something more than kissing that I wanted to do to you.”

Cullen was shaking. He nibbled on her ear, which caused her to cry out, wrap her arms around his neck and rock harder against him. The friction was driving him mad. He leaned back, pulled her hair, moaned and bucked his hips into her.

Ellana threw her head back and begged, “I...want...mmmorrrrrrrrrre. Cullen! _Cullen, please!_ ”

But something was wrong. He couldn't put his finger on it until it was too late. His throat tightened, forcing the air out of him in a loud moan.

Cullen’s golden eyes closed and his entire body tensed up with a force that threw Ellana backwards onto his desk, snapping her out of her bliss-induced stupor. It didn't take her long to realize that something awful was happening to him. All she could do at first was make sure he didn't strike his head on anything as he slid out of his chair and onto the floor.

Ellana’s mind flashed back to her Clan. There was a boy amongst them who had regular seizures and all the adults had to learn what to do in case they were around when it happened. _Don’t let him lie flat on his back. He’ll choke._ Easier said than done, but she didn’t have much time. She quickly braced herself against the wall and pushed Cullen onto his side, then folded his cloak and put it under his head. Then she loosened the armor clasps around his neck and ran to the door. 

Hopefully the guards lacked a sense of propriety and still lingered just outside.

Ellana threw the door open. “Seeker. Now!”

~~~

By the time Cassandra arrived, the convulsions had begun to taper off. Cassandra was sitting on the floor next to Ellana, one arm around the elf’s tiny shoulders, the other crossed her body to hold her hand. “How did it happen?” she asked softly.

Ellana blushed and began to tremble before she burst into tears. “It’s my fault, isn't it? I shouldn't have—”

“ _Ssh._ ” Cassandra gently hushed her. “If whatever you two were doing was particularly...vigorous...it was probably just a little more excitement than Cullen’s system can handle right now.” She squeezed Ellana’s shoulders. “I would say that he should know better, but…” Cassandra sighed. “I don’t think he’s ever—”

“We should clear the courtyard, get him somewhere comfortable,” said Ellana. “There’s no way we’re getting him into the loft in his condition. We can ask Bull to help us move him to my room for the time being.”

Cassandra raised her eyebrow at Ellana. 

“It’s the furthest thing from my mind, Cassandra. But he’s going to need to rest. He’s going to hate that, but too bad.”

“All right, I’ll ask Bull. But why clear the courtyard?” asked Cassandra.

“Because,” answered Ellana, “it would destroy Cullen if he knew his men saw him like this.”

~~~

Ellana and Cassandra followed Bull through Solas’ quarters. Solas grabbed Ellana by the arm. “What happened?”

Ellana hesitated, but she remembered that Solas helped nurse her back to health after her emergence from the Fade. “He...had a seizure. Lyrium withdrawal.”

“Ah,” Solas replied. “What do you do with a Templar when he stops being a Templar?” He paused. “Are you taking him to your room?”

Ellana blushed. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business, but yes. He needs rest. I have to go—” She turned to leave, but Solas wouldn’t let go of her arm.

“Is he so fragile that he needs you to protect him?” Solas snapped.

The Anchor on Ellana’s hand began to crackle. She clenched it into a fist. “What is your _problem?_ ”

“Ellana,” Solas whispered. “He will _never_ be your equal. Is that what you want?”

“You’re _wrong_ about him.” Ellana jerked her arm free. “Solas, go take a nap.” Then she hurried to catch up with Bull and Cassandra.

~~~

Ellana was lying next to Cullen, caressing his hair as he slept, when she heard a knock on the door. Reluctantly, she got up and answered.

It was Dorian. He hugged her. “I came as soon as I could.” He looked past her, over her shoulder, at Cullen. “How is he?”

“Sleeping,” replied Ellana as she stepped aside to let him enter. “The worst is over, I think.” 

Dorian laughed softly as he walked inside. “If you think the worst is over, then you've never had a migraine, my love.”

“Migraine? Why would he—how do you even know what happened?” Ellana stammered.

Dorian took a deep breath. “First of all...Maker, where do I start?” He sighed as he began to dig through a pack he’d brought with him. “His hands shake. Not so much that you’d notice unless you spend a lot of time with him, as I have. I know that he left the Templars, and Cullen...well, he never does anything halfway, does he?” He finally recovered what he’d been looking for. “Ginger. Here.” He tossed the root to Ellana and continued. “I am...familiar with the symptoms of lyrium withdrawal. I myself have a mild reaction after it wears off on the rare occasions that I've used it. His...must be _excruciating._ ” 

He strode over to Ellana’s bed and looked down at Cullen. “You great _idiot_. Ten years of regular lyrium dosages and you just abruptly stop taking it.” He shook his head disapprovingly, then looked up at Ellana. “He could have killed himself, you know. It’s a good thing you were there with him when it happened.”

“I was feeling pretty fortunate at the time.” Ellana smiled slightly. “But, you still haven’t answered my question. How did you know?”

“First Cole.”

“What a surprise.”

“Then Bull.”

“Also not a surprise.”

He pointed at her. “Get a knife, cut that ginger up, bring it back to me and go...distract yourself. I will watch him. Try not to kill anybody without me.”

“But—”

“But nothing. When he comes to, he and I will have a little _chat_. Preferably after his head stops throbbing.”

~~~

It would have been more difficult to leave Cullen if he wasn't in such good hands. She headed down the stairs, thinking she might chat up Josie, see if there were any visiting dignitaries she should be trying to flatter. When she got to Josephine’s office, which lay in between the court and the War Room, she was startled to see that she was not there. On her desk lay a note in flawless penmanship:

_Back at three bells._

Ellana smiled. _She must be meeting with someone important who arrived with little notice. It’s not like her to leave without her assistant there to cover for her._ Shrugging, she headed towards the stables to see if the Fereldan Forder Master Dennet had recently given her needed to be brushed or fed.

When she arrived at the stables, she heard a familiar giggle and phased through a bale of hay so she wouldn't be discovered.

_What is Josie doing here?_

A throaty laugh soon followed. She recognized the timbre of the voice, but... _Blackwall? He never laughs!_

_Oh._

_Ohhhhh._

Ellana suppressed a giggle. Luckily, the pair were saying their goodbyes when she’d happened upon them. After Josie left, Ellana phased out of the stable and pretended to have just arrived.

Blackwall was waiting for her, his arms crossed.

“What?” Ellana asked.

“You have hay in your hair.” he observed, pointing at her.

“Really?” she asked. “How can you tell?” _Creators, I am becoming as bad a liar as Cullen._

“Your hair...is lighter,” replied Blackwall. He sighed. “How long were you eavesdropping?”

“I wasn't—I was just here to—check on my horse.” Ellana sighed. “Dorian made me do it! He—didn't want me to just sit there and fret over Cullen.”

“I don’t like him much, but he’s good to you. Loyal. That’s what matters.” Blackwall grunted. “What’s wrong with your man?”

Ellana stammered. She was afraid of too many people knowing about this. 

Blackwall put a hand on Ellana’s shoulder. “You can tell me. I am _very_ good at keeping secrets.”

Ellana whispered. “Cullen had a seizure. He stopped taking lyrium and it’s...hurting him.”

Blackwall nodded. “Do you need a hug?”

Ellana nodded, and Blackwall obliged her. It was a strange, but not unpleasant feeling, not unlike the last hug she received from her father the day he left to find her mother.

“Your Commander...is an extraordinary man. Look what he’s done with your forces! One thing I will say about your men: they're passionate. Devoted. Because of you, and because of him. Build on that foundation, and you will have an army that makes nations tremble.” He looked at her seriously. “Cullen would give you all of Thedas if you asked him for it. And he could do it, too. I am...happy that the two of you finally found a way to be together.”

Elllana nodded as she and Blackwall separated. “About you and Josie…”

Blackwall whispered to her, “Please don’t tell anyone about us, Ellana. It would destroy her if it got out.” He sighed. “Some people just don’t know how to stay away…”

~~~

Cullen was fast asleep when Ellana returned late that evening to relieve Dorian. He’d had uneasy dreams, and sweat had returned the curl to his hair. Dorian was so concerned about the matter that he vowed to come back in the morning with whatever product Cullen had been using to tame his natural ringlets. 

“I promise to knock,” Dorian said with a wink.

“He had a seizure, Dorian.” Ellana replied, rolling her eyes. “I think I can control myself.”

“All the same, my love,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “A Lady deserves her privacy.”

After Dorian left for the night, Ellana drew and took a bath, then dressed herself for bed. She stood over Cullen for time she lost track of, watching him struggle with demons in his sleep and finally, carefully, crawled in next to him. At first, she huddled at one side of the bed, not wanting to disturb him, but he talked in his sleep. After she heard her own name tumble from his lips in a desperate plea, she snuggled closer, and it seemed that Cullen’s arms wrapped around her instinctively. 

He mumbled, “...take you from me...Ellana, _please_...can’t bear it...can’t lose you...love you too much...hurts...it... _hurts_ …” Cullen cradled her to him like she was the most precious thing in the universe.

Ellana rested her head on his chest and pressed her lips to his skin. He stilled, relaxed, and she drifted off to sleep.


	12. Something to Talk About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Ellana talk about the implications of their blossoming romance.

Ellana turned the carving of the symbol of Mythal that Blackwall had made for her over and over in her hands. It was nice to have something tangible to hold on to when she prayed. With all this Andraste business she'd nearly forgotten what it felt like to talk to her own Gods.

She prayed that the bark she'd asked the Keeper to send for Cullen's headaches would come swiftly, she prayed that Blackwall and Josie could be together, she prayed for Cassandra and Leliana's grief over Divine Justinia's death to be soothed, she prayed for Varric's guilt over the red lyrium to be lifted, she prayed for Solas to see Cullen in a more favorable light, she prayed for her Clan to be safe.

When it came time for her to give thanks, she became so overwhelmed with gratitude that she wept.

Cullen's love would have been more than enough to move her so, but her life was so rich with friendships and experiences that she scarcely knew how to begin. 

"Great Protector, All-Mother Mythal, thank You for all Your blessings. My life is proof of Your power and benevolence. Cullen, Dorian, Varric, Cassandra, Vivienne, Bull, Cole, Leliana, Blackwall, Josie, even Sera. She'd be angry that I'm thanking my 'elfy ' Goddess for her but she can go—never mind what she can do, it's not appropriate for a prayer. Anyway...again, as Goddess of Love, I need to specifically thank you for bringing Cullen back into my life. He is my Sun, Moon, and Stars. Help me to make him happy and proud.”

Ellana stood up and started backing away from the spot next to her bed, when she ran into something solid. She looked up and behind her.

It was Cullen, blushing and looking sheepish. “I—I’m sorry. I didn't want to interrupt you.”

“Cullen!” Ellana didn't know how to react at first. She was happy to see him, grateful that he seemed to be feeling better, but he’d been eavesdropping. “How did you manage to sneak up on me like that?”

Cullen gestured to himself. “No armor today.” As Ellana stood there thinking about what she should do to him, Cullen took her hands in his and kissed each palm tenderly. “I really _am_ sorry.” He leaned in, his breath hot on Ellana’s ear. “But if you want me to get down on my knees to make it up to you…”

Ellana blushed. “Right now?”

Cullen inhaled deeply. “I _want_ to, but...Dorian...thinks I need more time. That we should take things slow. Is—is that what you want?” 

Ellana looked into Cullen’s eyes as she reached up and caressed his cheek. “I _want_ you to live through this. Take all the time you need, Cullen. I’ll be waiting.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him tenderly, shivering with happiness as she felt his strong arms wrap around her. 

Cullen felt her pull away sooner than she normally would; normal being relative as this dance of theirs had only very recently taken on a physical tenor. Still, it was unlike her to be the first to break a kiss. He found himself whimpering a little in response to her withdrawal. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I need to know what I’m waiting _for_. We’re...so _different_ , you and I. You’re human, Andrastrian, a Templar…”

“ _Former_ Templar,” he corrected. “And you’re a Dalish apostate.” He traced the vallaslin on her face with his fingertip. “Elves weren't treated differently in the Circles I served. I didn't think what it might mean to you. I hope that doesn't—I mean _does_ it bother you?”

Ellana thought about it for a moment. There was a possibility, albeit a small one, that her Clan would disown her for marrying a human, if it were to come to that. _But as long as I'm not throwing all that away for nothing..._ she looked up at him through her eyelashes, feeling surprisingly shy. “Only if you’re not serious,” she whispered before biting her lip nervously.

Cullen smiled down at her. “Ellana, if you’re concerned about my intentions towards you, let me assure you—they are,” his voice lowered to a growl, “ _completely_ serious.” He captured her lips with his own and made a grunt of pleasure when he felt her melt into his embrace. “I am _yours_ ,” he said, “and I don’t care who knows.”

Ellana snorted. “Yes, you do! You _totally_ care! I've never met anyone who hates being the subject of gossip more than you.”

Cullen smiled and pressed his forehead against hers. “I would rather have them talk, than be without you, silly girl.” He smoothed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, then whispered, “Consider your prayers answered. You make me very happy, and I couldn't be more proud of the fact that you are mine.”

Ellana smirked, but the blush that accompanied it completely undermined the effect.

“You know,” said Cullen, looking over Ellana’s shoulder towards her bed, “taking things slow doesn't mean doing nothing at all…”


	13. All New, Faded For Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana helps Solas track down a friend who has been bound against her will.

Ellana stared at the mural that Solas had been working on in his room. “It’s coming along nicely, Solas.”

“Hmm?” He was sitting in his armchair, his back to her.

“Your...painting. It’s...extraordinary,” Ellana remarked.

“It should be. It was inspired by you,” Solas answered. He was still not looking at her.

“By me?” Ellana asked.

“I intend it to...tell your story,” Solas said. “To document your journey since you received the Anchor.”

“I don’t know what to say,” said Ellana as she crossed in front of Solas’ chair to look at him.

Solas looked up at her. “That it pleases you is enough,” he replied softly. He took a sip from a mug he held and scowled. 

“Not enough honey in your tea?” Ellana teased. “I never would have taken you for a sweet tooth.”

“One more thing your Commander and I have in common,” he observed. “But honey cannot change the fact that it is tea that I am drinking, and I detest the stuff.”

Ellana casually sat on the corner of Solas’ table and crossed her arms, “Then why are you drinking it?”

“Because,” explained Solas, “this morning, I need to shake the dreams from my mind. I may also need...a favor.”

“A _favor_? From me?” Ellana asked. “Aren’t you afraid that needing my help makes you fragile? Will we not be equals when I am done helping you?”

“Ellana, about the other day—my behavior—it was unworthy of me,” Solas answered.

“The one you _should_ be apologizing to is Cullen,” replied Ellana. “But he doesn't know about your being an arse, and I’d like to keep it that way. He has enough problems trusting mages as it is.” She slid off the table. “So. What’s this favor you seek? It involves a spirit, I’m guessing.”

“Am I so predictable?” Solas asked, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“You have to socialize with somebody _sometime_ ,” Ellana answered. “It certainly isn't anyone around here other than me.” 

“Not true! I played cards with Blackwall the other night!” Solas protested.

“Blackwall?” Ellana asked. “That must have been a laugh riot.”

“It was for me,” Solas replied. “I took him for everything he had, including his clothes.”

Ellana stared at Solas. “And Varric thinks _I’m_ weird.”

“Varric thinks weird things _happen_ to you. There’s a difference.” Solas paused. “But you are right. One of my oldest friends has been captured by mages, forced into slavery. I heard the cry for help as I slept.”

Ellana was curious. “When your friend was captured, how did he...she…”

“It,” Solas clarified. “My friend is a Spirit of Wisdom. Unlike the spirits clamoring to enter our world through the rifts, it was dwelling quite happily in the Fade. It was summoned against its will, and wants my help to regain its freedom and return to the Fade.”

“I thought spirits _wanted_ to find their way into this world,” said Ellana.

“Some do, certainly,” Solas replied. “Just as many Orlesian peasants wish they could journey to exotic Rivain! But not everyone wants to go to Rivain. My friend is an explorer, seeking lost wisdom and reflecting it. It would happily discuss philosophy with you, but it had no wish to come here physically.”

Ellana paused thoughtfully. “Do you have any idea what the mages want with your friend?”

Solas looked distressed just pondering it. “No. It knows a great deal of lore and history, but a mage could learn that by simply speaking to it in the Fade. It is possible that they seek information it does not wish to give and intend to torture it.”

Ellana nodded. This was the sort of thing that had led her to despise blood magic and the whole business of binding spirits against their will. If there was one thing Solas had taught her, it was ‘why bind when you can simply ask?’ “All right, we’ll find your friend and hopefully sort out this mess before anything terrible happens.”

Solas smiled at her for the first time in weeks. “Thank you!”

~~~

It was a few days before they arrived in the Exalted Plains, and by then it was too late. The spirit, bound with pillars of magical energy, had been turned into a Pride demon.

“My friend!” Solas exclaimed sadly.

Ellana laid a sympathetic hand on Solas’ shoulder. “The mages turned your friend into a demon.”

“Yes,” Solas replied.

“You said it was a spirit of wisdom, not a fighter,” she said.

“A spirit becomes a demon when denied its original purpose!” snapped Solas.

“So, they summoned it for something so opposed to its own nature that it was corrupted. Fighting?” asked Ellana.

One of the mages approached.

“Let us ask them!” Solas replied furiously.

“A mage! You’re not with the bandits?” asked one of the binders. 

Ellana narrowed her eyes. “Do we look like fucking bandits?”

The binder stared at her, apparently dumbfounded that someone might not be so cheerful to see a huge, bound demon over his shoulder or the mage stupid enough to summon it. He turned to Solas. “Do you have any lyrium potions? Most of us are _exhausted_. We’ve been fighting that _demon_ —”

“You _summoned_ that demon,” Solas scolded. “Except it was a spirit of wisdom at the time. You made it kill! You twisted it against its purpose.”

The binder tried to explain himself. “I...I...I understand how it might be confusing to someone who has not studied demons, but after you help us, I can—”

“We are not here to help you!” Solas growled.

“Word of advice?” Ellana snapped. “I’d hold off on explaining how demons work to my friend here.”

“Listen to me! I was one of the foremost experts in the Kirkwall Circle—”

Suddenly wishing Cullen were present, a scenario appeared in Ellana’s mind:

~~~

_“Darling? Can you still do...Templar things?” she asked._

_Cullen strolled up behind her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Maybe, why do you ask?”_

_Ellana pointed at the binding mage. “This idiot here summoned a spirit of wisdom and twisted it into a pride demon because apparently he was too incompetent to fight bandits.”_

_Cullen tilted his head. “Oh, I know that man! He's an arsehole!" He kissed the top of her head. "Would you like me to run him through, my love? It will be like old times. I’m feeling nostalgic.”_

_“Please do. I’m afraid if any more words come out of his mouth it will make everyone present collectively dumber.”_

_“With pleasure!”_

_Cullen was clean and efficient. One well-placed strike and the mage was dead. He turned and grinned at her proudly. She squealed and ran to him._

_The wind swirling around them, Cullen took Ellana in his arms. She sighed and looked up at him. "I love you, my knight in shining armor."_

_He smiled down at her and replied, "And I love you, silly girl!"_

_Then they kissed._

~~~

Ellana sighed.

“Shut. Up,” Solas admonished the Binder. “You summoned it to protect you from the bandits!”

Ellana guessed she hadn't missed anything important during her all-too-brief reverie.

“I—Yes,” admitted the Binder.

“You bound it to obedience, then commanded it to kill,”said Solas. “ _That_ is when it turned!” He turned to Ellana. “The summoning circle. We break it, we break the binding. No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature, no demon."

The Binder was outraged. " _What?_ The binding is the only thing keeping keeping the demon from killing us! Whatever it was before, it is a monster now!"

Solas turned to Ellana. "Ellana, please!"

Ellana nodded her head. "I've studied rituals like this. I should be able to disrupt the binding quickly."

"Thank you," Solas replied. "We must hurry!"

Ellana sped ahead as fast as she could, slashing at the pillars with her spirit blade. Blackwall and Cole, who'd hung back turning the tense discussion between the Mages, took off after her. It was all they could do, just to keep up. After they'd broken the binding, it was as Solas had said; the spirit returned to her original form. Ellana was puzzled as to why Solas insisted on calling her 'it' when her voice and form were clearly feminine. Why did he bother getting offended when Vivienne and Sera called Cole 'it' if he was going to do the same thing to his friend?

Solas knelt before his friend. "Lethallin, I am sorry."

"I am not sorry," the Spirit replied in Elvhen. "I am _me_ again. You _helped_ me. Now you must endure. Guide me into death."

Solas hesitated, then replied, "As you wish." He cast a spell that Ellana had never seen before, one that caused the spirit to break apart and disappear. "Dareth Shiral," he whispered.

Ellana approached Solas and put her hand on his shoulder. "I heard what she--it said. It was _right_. You _did_ help it."

"Now...I must endure," said Solas. 

"Let me know if I can help," offered Ellana.

Solas squeezed her hand and rose to his feet. "You already have," he replied. "All that remains now...is them," he added, turning his gaze on the Mages.

The binding mage and his companions approached. "Thank you! We would not have risked a summoning, but the roads are too dangerous to travel unprotected."

Solas stalked towards them. "You...tortured and killed my friend!"

The binding Mages shrank in his presence. "We didn't know it was just a spirit. The book said it could help us!"

The one who'd approached them first looked to Ellana to intervene, but she shook her head. "You should have run when you had the chance."

There was a flash of Fade and fire and the mages were no more. “Damn them all!” Solas exclaimed. He turned to Ellana. “I...need some time alone. I will meet you back at Skyhold.”

Ellana watched Solas walk away. When he was out of sight, she turned to Blackwall and Cole. “Well, I don’t know about _you_ , but I feel like killing something. How about a dragon?”


	14. Harding in Hightown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Field trip to Kirkwall!

Ellana had to wait for two days for Bull and Dorian to show up. Despite Dorian’s near-constant complaints about the perils of dragon hunting, it was totally worth it. The Gamordan Stormrider was a magnificent beast, and taking her down scratched an itch she didn’t know she had.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaataaaaaaaaaaaaaasssssssssssheeeeee.” Ellana drunkenly mumbled as The Iron Bull held her upside down by her ankles and shook.

“Come on, Ellana. Spit up!” Bull hollered. They’d drunk an entire bottle celebrating together after killing the dragon. It would have been all right if she’d been another Qunari, but she was an elf who maybe weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet. “If you die, Cullen will mount my head on his wall.”

“Taaaaaaaaarsidaaaaaaaaaaaaaaath-annnnnnnnn halsaaaaaaammmmmmmm!” she shouted.

Bull burst out laughing. Luckily, this was just the force needed to shake the liquor loose from Ellana’s stomach and send it surging back out. Disgusting, but lucky. He carefully righted Ellana and wiped her face. “Come on, let's get you some salt water.”

“Salt water?” she asked, aghast.

“Trust me. If you want to be able to walk tomorrow—”

“Alright, you’ve convinced me!” she exclaimed.

~~~

Ellana sat next to Bull by the campfire, nursing her cup of saltwater. “You know what our outfit needs?” she asked. “Mabari,” she finished without waiting for an answer. “Skyhold is huge. There has to be enough room there for a kennel.”

“Mabari,” Bull repeated. “If you’re going to do it right, you’re going to need Ash Warriors. They’re not easy to come by.”

Ellana smiled sleepily. “Ash Warriors serve the King of Ferelden. Luckily, I happen to know a couple of people who, if they ask politely, might be able to persuade Al—the King to give one to us.” She swirled the mug in her hands. “To be our Master of Hounds.”

“But where would we get the Mabari?” asked Bull. “We’ve run into them in the Hinterlands, but those are feral.”

“Varric left some correspondence out on his desk the other day. Seems as though Lady Hawke’s uncle has taken over her estate in her absence, and that he has been making quite a bit of coin breeding Mabari. The most recent litter has both Hawke’s dog Barkspawn and Queen Elissa’s dog Dogmeat in their blood line. Grand-sires or great-grand-sires. I’m not sure. Think of that pedigree, Bull!”

“Now you’re thinking like a Qunari,” Bull replied with a smirk. “But what about the dragon? We have to drag that corpse back to Skyhold.”

“Threnn?” Ellana called out. 

The young quartermaster popped her head out of her tent. “Yes, Ser?”

“Were you asleep?” Ellana asked.

“About,” answered Threnn.”

“Sorry!” Ellana squeaked. “Listen, do you think tomorrow morning you and your men could pick up camp and take the dragon’s...remains back to Skyhold?”

Threnn rasied an eyebrow at her.

“We’re getting Mabari, but we have to go to Kirkwall to get them,” Ellana continued. “That means splitting the party, I’m afraid.” 

“You want _me_ to drag a rotting dragon corpse back to Skyhold?” asked Threnn. It was as close to an outright refusal to follow a direct order as one gets in the Inquisition.

Ellana paused. “No, you will need to keep the remains as fresh as possible. That means keeping it dry and cold and out of the sun,” she cleared her throat. “Something is puzzling me, Threnn. I would have thought that you would jump at the chance at helping us to get Mabari. Loghain had them in his army...before he sacrificed the lot of them so that he could murder the King and take power.” Ellana smiled. “Does the Commander know about the fact that you support a traitor to the Fereldan crown? Someone who tried to kill his best friend?” She covered her mouth in feigned surprise. “Oh! You may not have been _aware_ of that fact. The Commander and King Alistair are... _quite_ close. It would be a _shame_ if he found out—” 

“Yes, Ser!” Threnn said, before quickly ducking back into her tent.

Bull snorted. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Ellana downed her salt water. “Harding?”

~~~

The Inquisitor’s ship left the Storm Coast with Ellana, Bull, Dorian and Scout Harding aboard, pointed towards Kirkwall. Dorian turned to Ellana as they leaned over the railing. “Varric is going to be disappointed that you didn’t invite him along.”

“If I had taken Varric along to Kirkwall, we’d have never been able to get him to leave,” replied Ellana. “How’s your stomach?”

Dorian burped. “Glad I didn’t eat breakfast.”

“It’s not a long trip, Lord Pavus,” Scout Harding called out comfortingly from the wheel. “Especially since we have the wind at our backs.”

“You know what would be great?” asked Ellana. “It would be great if we could ride a dragon across the Waking Sea instead.”

“You’d just kill it later,” Dorian groaned.

“Only after the return trip,” Ellana replied.

Dorian wheezed, “Andraste, even laughing hurts!”

“Here, let me help.” Ellana gently took Dorian’s hand and flipped his arm palm side up. She slid her thumb about two inches down from the crease in his wrist, right between the tendons, and pressed firmly. “After about ten minutes, your nausea should stop.”

Dorian smiled at her and kissed her on the cheek.

“I love you too, Dorian,” said Ellana.

~~~

They arrived to find Kirkwall still gripped by chaos. The only one of them with a passing knowledge of the place was Ellana and her ability to find her way around was hampered by the fact that her original path had been somewhat random in the first place.

“Let’s see...Gallows to...Oh, the Chantry isn’t there anymore. Right. Okay. Lowtown is...but we’re not going to Lowtown...Shit. Red Templars!”

And there were a lot of them. The only thing working to Ellana’s advantage was the fact that they hadn’t been expecting the Inquisitor to personally set foot in Kirkwall. They were going to have to kill them all if they wanted to get out of the Free Marches alive.

“It’s—ugh—so much easier to get to high ground when you’re out in nature!” shouted Scout Harding.

Ellana ducked under the Iron Bull’s massive swing and cut an arc through the Templars at his flank while Dorian set the ones on the other side on fire.

“That never gets old!” exclaimed Dorian.

After they’d laid waste to the Templars, Ellana and company looked around them again. “Hightown...Hightown...ugh!”

“Hightown?” asked Bull with an exasperated sigh.

“Yes,” answered Ellana.

He opened his pack and produced a map of Kirkwall. “The Qunari spent some time here, remember? It’s not like we could stop and ask for directions.”

“Thanks, Bull!” She perused the map and took off in the direction of the Viscount’s Keep.

~~~

Gamlen was a more reasonable man than Ellana had thought he’d be, based on Varric’s stories. Of course, that might have had to do with the fact that she had The Iron Bull negotiate the terms of their purchase. Soon, they were laden with six slobbering Mabari puppies.

“Hey!” Ellana exclaimed, clapping Scout Harding on the shoulder. “You’re Harding in Hightown!”

“What does that even mean?” Harding asked.

Ellana smiled, and dug a copy of Varric’s book out of her pack. “This will answer a _lot_ of questions, I think.”

“Thanks, Inquisitor!” said Harding with a smile.

“Call me Ellana,” Ellana replied as she squeezed the smaller woman’s shoulder.

“Lace,” Harding responded in turn, patting Ellana’s hand.

Ellana smiled and opened the map. “Don’t forget to give that back!" she said with a wink. “That there is an autographed copy!”

“Ugh!” groaned Dorian as he wiped his hands on his robes. “Why aren't you holding any of the leashes?”

“Someone’s got to look at the map, you know!” Ellana declared.

The Iron Bull snatched the map back. “It’s not like we’re going sightseeing. We go back the way we came. Take Dorian’s dogs or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Ellana was about to reach for the leashes when she heard a small cry from a nearby alleyway. She signaled her companions to stay back and tiptoed towards the sound. When she reached the middle of the alley, she set a ball of light into the air and looked around.

There, fighting over a rotting fish, were two tiny kittens.

“No, Ellana,” said Dorian, who’d clearly ignored her request to stay put.

“I’m keeping them,” she said, scooping them into her arms. “Where are the puppies?”

“With Bull,” he replied. “Where are you going to put them? You can’t take them with you everywhere!”

Ellana smiled mischievously. “I _know_.”


	15. Love Cats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana brings back a pair of kittens from Kirkwall for Cullen.

He saw her coming from a ways off. 

It had been two weeks, two long, arduous weeks without her lips, without her arms, without...her. When Solas had returned alone with no knowledge of her whereabouts, Cullen had feared the worst. Then Bull and Dorian answered the call to help her hunt a dragon. Another week passed before Threnn arrived with the Gamordan Stormrider and told him that Ellana was still alive, last she’d seen, anyway. But he went on to wear a hole in his rug pacing nervously when he found out that she'd gone to Kirkwall of all places without consulting anyone. Kirkwall, which was swarming with Red Templars and pirates and assassins and abominations and Maker knew what else.

She hadn't even come to see him before he was called to a meeting in the War Room. Ellana strolled in having clearly taken her time in doing so. She had bathed, donned a purple dress with a floral print train (and a slit up the side, Cullen noted to himself) and topped it off with a woven crown of purple flowers on her head.

“Inquisitor, we were...” he began.

Leliana finished gleefully as the words stuck in Cullen’s throat. “Eagerly awaiting your presence—some of us more than others.”

“I wasn't—I mean, I _was_ …” he gulped, “we have work to do,” Cullen stammered.

“Of course,” Leliana said with a grin.

Ellana smiled at Cullen, then at the rest of the War Council. “We have Mabari,” she announced proudly.

“Is that why you went gallivanting off to Kirkwall?” asked Cullen disapprovingly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ellana’s eyes widened. “I, uh—”

“You were gone for two weeks! Did you know that? _Two. Weeks_. Without sending word,” he scolded her.

Ellana bit her lip. Cullen almost couldn't handle it long enough to say, “I’d like to call for a recess. Can we...reconvene in...an hour?” but he managed it.

“Yes, Commander,” said Josephine, stifling a giggle.

“See you in _two_ ,” Leliana added with a wink.

The door closed, and Cullen was finally alone with Ellana. She was bent over the War Table looking at the map of Ferelden. “I’m going to need you to send an emissary to King Alistair—” She stopped abruptly when she felt Cullen’s hands firmly grip her hips. He reached around to rest one of his hands on her stomach and pushed her upright, then tangled the other hand in her hair, pulling her head to one side so he could nuzzle her neck. 

“Did you _miss_ me, Cullen?” she asked, with a giggle that dissolved into a sigh.

Cullen pressed into Ellana from behind. “You _know_ I did,” he growled in her ear. Then he turned her around, slipped his hands under her bottom, and lifted her onto the War Table. "Did you miss me?” he asked. He put his finger over her mouth. "No, don't say it," he said kissing her neck. "I want to find out for myself." Cullen pulled his gloves off. He let one hand drift under Ellana's skirt while with his other hand he slid his fingertip down between her breasts and circled her navel, before it joined his first hand between her thighs and began slowly, slowly spreading them apart. 

Ellana lunged at Cullen, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him passionately before reaching up to clutch at his hair. She cried out against his mouth when she felt him cup her sex over her smallclothes and she shuddered when he began to rub his thumb over her opening. 

Cullen broke their kiss with a laugh. "You missed me _very_ much," he said, as he leaned her back against the War Table and continued to caress her. 

"You...know I d-did," Ellana moaned and snapped her hips. "Cullen, _please!_ "

"Please _what?_ " he asked impishly.

Ellana pressed herself desperately against Cullen's hand. "Please don't...stop!"

Cullen removed his hand and dipped his head between her legs so he could bite her thighs, one after the other. She squealed and wriggled wildly beneath him. “You know,” he whispered, hot breath against her skin, “it wasn't very nice of you to make me worry like that.”

“Mmm!” Ellana bit her lip and grunted with frustration. She swiveled her hips in a frantic attempt to regain that intoxicating feeling that Cullen had given to her.

“Running off to Kirkwall without so much as a word of warning…” he growled, before hooking his fingers under her smallclothes and yanking them down to her ankles. For a moment, he stared at the vision before him; her glistening folds, swollen with desire, opening to him like a lily. All he could think about was how much he wanted to worship her with his tongue.

And. He. Froze.

_What am I doing? Here? On the War Room Table?_

“Cullen?”

_Am I some sort of wild animal? Is this what I do when I indulge myself? She may be powerful, but she is also petite, delicate. She trusts me! What if I hurt her?_

“Cullen?”

_What if something horrible rises up in me? What if I become so overcome by desire that I become an abomination? Am I already an abomination? A thrall to Ellana? No, I shouldn't even think such a thing of her, but I—what will I do with her when I’m done? Am I using her for my own base needs? I can’t! I won’t! I—_

Overcome by guilt and shame and fear, Cullen bent down and hurriedly recovered Ellana’s smallclothes for her. His kissed her on the forehead and mumbled, “Forgive me,” before rushing out the door, slamming it behind him in his haste.

Ellana sat up, drew her knees up to her chest, and tried to stop the constricting feeling in her chest, tried to breathe, tried to stop the tears from coming.

~~~

Cullen’s assault on his own psyche continued as he stalked back to his office. 

_And now look what I've done! How can I face her after this? She trusts me, cares for me. How could I have abandoned her when she was so vulnerable? I don’t deserve her…how can she forgive me after what I've done? Maker, what have I done? What have I done?_

He opened the door to his office.

_It’s the lyrium. If I was taking the lyrium I could control myself better. I’m doing a disservice to her...selfish...I should be taking it—_

Cullen sat at his desk, buried his face in his hands, and moaned miserably. He would have been quite content to keep doing just that, but for the tiny, high-pitched cries that were coming from a box in front of him. 

_Could it be?_

He lifted the lid of the box and out popped the heads of not one but two tortoiseshell kittens.

“They’re for luck,” came Ellana’s voice from the doorway. It was raining outside.

_I should invite her in—_

“Luck,” he repeated cynically. He couldn't bear to look at her, but he could tell she was walking towards him. The kittens tumbled out of their box and immediately started batting at the fur of his mantle. 

“Male torties are very rare. One in three thousand. I found two from the same litter and I thought—”

“Why are you _here_ , Ellana?” Cullen asked, his voice thick with emotion.

“I should think that would be obvious,” she replied.

“ _Don’t_ be coy!” he pleaded, his voice breaking. He looked up at her and a single tear rolled down his cheek. Meanwhile, the kittens had climbed up on to his mantle and were at that moment curling up on either shoulder.

“Cullen, I—”

“Maker, I must look ridiculous. Are they nesting...in my cloak?” Cullen half-laughed, half-sobbed. “And what you must _think_ of me—”

Ellana walked to Cullen's side and lifted his chin with her fingertips. She smiled down at him, her adoration for him shining so brightly from her eyes that he had to look away.

Cullen shook his head in disbelief. “I’m not good enough for you, Ellana. I’m...broken. You deserve—”

Ellana bent and kissed him softly to silence his fears. “Cullen Stanton Rutherford,” she whispered against his lips, “I've loved you since the day we met. And every day...my love for you grows. You are everything—”

He stood up, carefully, so as not to dislodge the kittens, and he gently took his cloak off, resting it and the purring kittens on his desk. 

“Ellana—” he began, but he couldn't put his feelings into words. He let his kisses and caresses do the talking for him. For now, it would have to do.


	16. Shall We Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana (and Cullen) get some help preparing for the ball from Scout Lace Harding. Hilarity ensues.

There was going to be a ball in one month. 

A _real_ ball. An Imperial Masquerade Ball, at that. 

And Josephine had secured an Invitation for the Inquisition! It was like a dream come true for Ellana.

Ellana was beside herself with excitement. She was going to have to get a dress, review the rules of the Great Game with Leliana and acquaint herself with basic conversational Orlesian, but most of all...she’d need to learn to dance. She twirled with pure, unrestrained delight through the courtyard as she headed towards the Herald’s Rest, then tucked her hair behind her ear as it became disheveled; it had reached an awkward length as she had been growing it out since coming to Skyhold. Something would have to be done about that.

“Lace!” she called out with an enthusiastic wave.

Lieutenant Lace Harding, Scout of the Inquisition, and Cullen Rutherford’s best kept secret, sat in the sun outside of Herald’s Rest, legs outstretched before her, Varric's book in hand, and taking a rare break from exploration. “Good day, Ellana!” she replied. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Ellana crouched down next to her. “Are you still offering those dance lessons that you were advertising about in the Rest?” she asked.

“You know, you’re the second person today to ask me that question.” Lace replied with a knowing smile. “What’s the occasion? Imperial ball at Halamshiral?”

Ellana’s eyes widened. “How did you know? Only the War Council and I know about it. Josephine just received the invitations this morning!”

“Well,” Lace said with a smirk, “I guess that narrows the field on who the first person was, doesn't it?” She put the book away in her pack, stood up, and held a hand out to Ellana to help her to her feet as well. “Today is your lucky day. I have been given...special dispensation...to spend more time at Skyhold for the foreseeable future to...pursue other interests. It just so happens that I have time in my busy schedule to squeeze you in. How do Fridays sound? Say...at 6pm?”

Ellana and Cullen had taken to having dinner together on Fridays at 7pm when they were both at Skyhold. She didn't want him to know about the dance lessons. They were going to be a surprise, something she could show off for him at the ball. Ellana would have to rush from her lesson to dinner, but it seemed feasible. She nodded her head in the affirmative.

“Wonderful! Do you have a partner? The _Commander_ , perhaps?” Lace asked, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

A partner! Ellana hadn't thought of that. She would need one, but it couldn't be Cullen or it would ruin the surprise. “Can I get back to you on that?”

~~~

Earlier that day…

“Lieutenant Harding!” Cullen said as he slid into a seat opposite Lace while she ate her lunch at the Herald’s Rest.

Lace almost dropped her fork in shock. “Commander!” She stood up and saluted him.

“At ease, Harding,” he replied. “Have a seat, finish your lunch. I just want to _talk_ to you.”

Lace eyed him suspiciously. This could either be a good thing or a bad thing. She personally knew the Commander to be a fair man, but she was also aware of the fact that as many of his men feared him as loved him; it was best to be on guard. “How can I help you, sir?”

Cullen looked around him surreptitiously and lowered his voice to a whisper. “This is Top Secret information. I would appreciate your discretion in this matter.”

“Not like the Hissing Wastes Incident, am I right, Commander?” Lace asked with a friendly smirk.

Her casual attitude took Cullen by surprise, but it was not an unpleasant thing. He rolled his eyes. “Andraste preserve me, no! Shapeley can’t keep a secret to save his life.” He paused before continuing. “The Inquisition has received an invitation to the Imperial Ball at Halamshiral.” Cullen cleared his throat. “There’s going to be... _dancing_. The Inquisitor is going to be there...and so am I...and...I’m not sure whether you know, but—”

“You and the Inquisitor are in _love?_ ” Lace asked, raising her eyebrow. He had, after all, told her to be at ease. “You’d have to be blind not to see it. Ser!” Her mouth twitched. She’d made the Commander blush.

“Yes,” Cullen answered, feeling his cheeks burn. _Maker’s Breath, have I even told Ellana yet? No time to think about that now._ “Anyway, what I wanted to know was whether you’re still offering...dance lessons.” He gritted his teeth. It had been difficult to ask. “Templars don’t really get asked to attend balls.”

Lace smiled gently at the Commander. “You secret is safe with me, Ser. How do Fridays sound? Is 7pm all right?”

Cullen’s eyes danced with mirth as his mind went elsewhere. “I have a standing engagement at that time. How about 5pm?” Cullen’s other, less harmful vice was vanity. If he knew absolutely that he was going to see Ellana, he tended to...fuss...over his appearance a little more than usual.

“That shouldn't be a problem, Ser—”

“Of course you will be compensated generously, in addition to your standard pay,” Cullen interrupted. “And since the Ball is a month off, well, you can consider this next month a paid vacation. I will see to it that Ell—I mean, the Inquisitor sticks to the regions you've already explored. Any time that you have when not teaching me is yours to use as you see fit.”

Lace had finished her dinner. She sipped her cider delicately. “One more thing, Commander. Will the Inquisitor be joining us? You will need a partner. Because,” she looked Cullen up and down, “height difference.”

Cullen bit his lip. “I was thinking of... _surprising_ her.”

“You want to sweep her off her feet?” Lace asked.

He nodded, and was rewarded with an excited squeal. _Maker, it never fails._

“How _romantic!_ ” Lace exclaimed.

“Yes. Well,” Cullen gulped, “Let me get back to you about the partner thing.”

~~~

“Doriaaaaaaaaannnnn, pleeeeeease?” Ellana begged as she followed him down the spiral staircase. 

“Hmm, what are you willing to do for _me?_ ” Dorian asked playfully. “There are some Tevinter vintages that I've been missing. It seems like the Herald’s Rest only stocks that Fereldan swill. Ugh.”

“I’ll ask Bonny Sims if she can secure some,” she replied. “If not, I’ll hit up one of our smugglers. Happy?”

“Well...I don’t _know_ , my love!” Dorian said with a wink. “How often does one have an opportunity like this, to have someone so powerful so _completely_ at one’s mercy?” He rubbed his hands together in glee.

Ellana smirked. “You _do_ know that this is as much for Cullen’s benefit as it is mine, right? Your two best friends and all you can think about is how to profit! You’re _such_ a mercenary!”

Dorian’s laughter pealed through the court. “All right, I’ll do it. You could give a Chantry sister lessons in giving guilt trips!”

~~~

“No. Absolutely not,” said Cassandra, as she slashed at a practice dummy.

“Oh, come on! It’s only for a few weeks,” Cullen pleaded, throwing knives at a target.

“Exactly my point, Cullen! What a terrible waste of time,” The Seeker replied.

“But you already know how to dance,” Cullen began. “You must have been to hundreds of balls—”

“Yes, and I hated every one of them,” she snapped.

The two fell silent. Cullen plucked the knives out of the target and walked a few more paces further back from where he’d been. “If I can hit a bullseye from here, will you do it?” he asked.

Cassandra smirked. “All the way against the opposite wall and we have a deal.”

Cullen walked to the wall, turned, and made a big show of aiming, to the point that Cassandra snorted with laughter.

“ _So_ glad to see you’re taking this—”

The Commander threw the knife at the target and made a perfect bullseye. He turned towards a dumbfounded Cassandra and gave her a smug little smirk. “Remember, the lesson is at 5pm. Sharp.”

Cassandra stopped him before he walked away. “Cullen, what is this _really_ all about? You _hate_ stuffy functions like this! You _despise_ the nobility and their pretentions. Why would you want to put on airs for the Orlesians?”

Cullen eluded her gaze. “The stakes are higher this time—”

Cassandra shook her head with exasperation. “Empress Celene doesn't need you to dance the Remigold, she needs you to—”

“This isn't about the damned Empress!” Cullen snapped.

“Then what is all this about stakes?” asked Cassandra.

“I want things to be as perfect as possible for Ellana.” Cullen explained quietly. “Because...I’m in love with her.” 

“Cullen—”

“If you disapprove, I will go to Josephine. Leliana. Vivienne...Sera. I will do _whatever_ it takes—”

“—that’s _so_ romantic!” Cassandra sighed.

Cullen stared at the Seeker in disbelief. “So that means you’ll—”

“Help you?” finished Cassandra, smirking. “Yes. You’re going to need all the help you can get.”

~~~

**Week One:**

Cullen stared at Ellana as she sat across from him in the Herald’s Rest, ravenously shoveling her meal of Beef with Morels and Ramsons into her mouth. “That’s... _quite_ an appetite you have there…” he said, then trailed off. Cullen still hadn't decided on a pet name for her. Frankly, he wondered whether they were at the place in their relationship where they could give each other pet names. But he found himself reflexively wanting to call her something other than Ellana or Silly Girl, or of course Dalish. Especially since one of Bull's Chargers was nicknamed Dalish.

_Honey? No._

_Darling? Maybe._

_Sugar Lips? Accurate._

“Oh, you have _no_ idea!” she said, swallowing her food and winking at him.

It took a moment for him to realize what she was getting at, and of course once he figured it out, he blushed.

Ellana giggled. “You’re breathtaking when you blush, Cullen,” she said with a smirk, before greedily scooping more food down her gullet.

Cullen reached under the table for Ellana’s hand and squeezed it affectionately.

~~~

**Week Two:**

Cassandra sat on a bale of hay in the barn, soaking her feet in the trough. 

“I _said_ I was sorry!” Cullen exclaimed.

“What about the other nine times you stepped on my feet, Commander?” Cassandra snapped. Somewhere in the background, Blackwall laughed.

Cullen gulped. She only called him Commander when she was cross. “I had to keep counting! So I didn't...lose my place…” he tried to explain.

“How did you _ever_ learn how to march?” she groaned.

“Marching is _easy_ ,” admitted Cullen. “You’re not doing it with someone directly in front of you holding onto your hands, looking up into your face, and doing the same exact thing as you only backwards. That’s just _distracting_.”

Cassandra was thoughtful for a moment. “Cullen, you studied music as a Templar, am I right?”

“Counting the time before I took my vows, I would say I studied for fifteen, sixteen years,” Cullen replied.

“Did you have to count when you sang?” Cassandra asked.

“No, of course not. I just felt the b—” Cullen’s eyes widened as an epiphany took over him. “Maker’s Breath!”

~~~

**Week Three:**

“Ellana, you’re _limping_.” Cullen still hadn't decided on a pet name for her. He’d named his cats before he come up with a nickname for the woman he loved. For the record, they were named Samahl (Laugh) and Sulahn (Sing). So if he couldn't give her a title, he figured he may as well give her a foot massage. 

She was being strangely reticent.

“Yes. Well, I was on my feet a lot more than usual today.” This, coming from a woman who regularly hiked several miles a day. Of course, she usually did that hiking in sensible boots, not in delicate heeled shoes.

Cullen grabbed her by the waist and sat her next to him. “Boots off, Ellana. Come on.”

Ellana blushed. “You _really_ don’t want me to do that.”

He rolled his eyes, got to his feet, and hoisted her over his shoulder before walking to her bathroom and running the water. “If you’re that worried that the smell is going to drive me away, we can wash them up first.” He started untying her boots. “Maker’s Breath, like I haven’t smelled worse! Remember when I had to show you where the hots springs were?”

Ellana looked horrified, “You think I smelled bad?”

Cullen’s eyes widened. “Well, _didn't_ you? You hadn't bathed in a week! You weren't going to smell like rose petals.”

Ellana sat on the edge of the bathtub in silence, blushing and passively letting Cullen remove her boots. When he was done, she turned around, smoothed her skirt out of the way so it wouldn't hang in the water, and started to soak her feet.

Several minutes passed before Cullen realized that he was in trouble.

“I've...said something wrong, haven’t I?” he finally asked.

Ellana turned to look at him and made a face, but said nothing.

“Oh, don’t be like _that_.” Cullen groaned. “Sulk all you want, but don’t give me the silent treatment.”

Ellana narrowed her eyes at him and flashed a sinister smile before kicking a wave of bathwater into his face.

Cullen was drenched. He gazed at Ellana, who was looking away and biting her lip to keep from laughing. Then he took a cup that had been sitting on the nearby sink, filled it up with bathwater and dumped it on her head. 

The two of them sat there, dripping wet, staring at each other. Cullen smiled at her, then slipped into the bathtub fully clothed before silently beckoning to her with a crooked finger. Ellana straddled him, leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

~~~

**Week Four:**

Cassandra and Dorian sat next to each other, passing a particularly fine Tevinter wine back and forth between them. 

“Taste the plum, Seeker?” Dorian asked. “It embraces the tongue like a lover and won’t let go.”

“I don’t think I taste _anything_ anymore, but if your ideas for reforming Tevinter don’t work out, you could always become a poet,” replied Cassandra.

“Drunk _and_ broke? I’d be right back where I started,” he said with a chuckle.

They fell into a comfortable silence. 

“Was it worth it?” Dorian asked.

“Helping them? You wouldn't know it to look at me, Dorian, but I am _quite_ sentimental,” said Cassandra. “I count both Cullen and Ellana as...my closest friends. I want them to be happy.”

Dorian smiled. “I can’t _wait_ to see them together at the ball. Cullen’s going to sweep her off her feet.”

Cassandra nodded. “He deserves to be happy. They _both_ do.”


	17. Bad Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana helps Dorian and his father to have an awkward family reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad Blood takes place over Week 1 of Shall We Dance.

Ellana had just returned from Crestwood when, as she was walking towards Cullen’s office (because of course she was walking towards Cullen’s office), she was stopped by Shapeley.

“Lady Inquisitor?” he said, standing in her path, “You have been summoned by Reverend Mother Giselle. She wants to see you right away!”

“ _Right_ away?” Ellana asked. She hadn’t seen Cullen in a few days and, well…

“Yes, Milady.” Shapeley said with a nod, “She said the matter was quite urgent.”

Ellana’s heart squeezed in her chest as looked longingly at the tower over his shoulder, sighed, and shrugged. “Very well, then.”

~~~

“My Lady Inquisitor, it’s good of you to speak with me,” said Mother Giselle. “I have news regarding one of your companions. The _Tevinter_.”

Ellana raised her eyebrow. Something about the Reverend Mother’s tone set her off, not to mention the fact that she refused to used Dorian's name when speaking of him. Despite her best intentions at sounding respectful, Ellana's voice was arch and defensive. “Is that...a note of _distaste_ I detect, Mother Giselle?

Mother Giselle wrung her hands and broke eye contact. “I...admit his presence here makes me uncomfortable, Inquisitor,” she replied, “but my feelings are of no importance.”

First she was being denied access to her boyfriend and then she had to hear the disapproval from someone she had looked up to of her best friend. Ellana’s mood was quickly becoming sour.

“I have been in contact with his family, House Pavus,” she continued. “Are you familiar with them?”

This was getting stranger and stranger. There were many reasons why Dorian left Tevinter and his family was one of them, but he didn't like to talk about it. This was something that perplexed Ellana about her friend, that he could share so much of himself with her without going into detail about them. _Some wounds are too tender to tend to_. “We...haven’t met,” Ellana answered. “And I’m assuming that’s the way Dorian wants it.”

“Yes,” Mother Giselle said with a nod. “The family sent a letter describing their estrangement from their son and pleading for my aid. They've asked to arrange a meeting, quietly, without telling him. They fear it’s the only way he’ll come. Since you seem to be on good terms with the young man, I’d hoped—”

“Reverend Mother, are you asking me to _lie_ to my _best_ friend?” Ellana asked. She could feel the Anchor pulsating in her fist.

“Not to lie, _exactly_. Just to...omit some of the facts. For his own good,” Mother Giselle responded in a measured tone. “They don’t want to come to Skyhold. You make them nervous, I think, and they wish to understand why Dorian felt he had to come here. They want him to come home.”

“What if he doesn’t _want_ to go home? All this planning and scheming behind his back—Dorian’s a grown man! It doesn't feel right.”

“I understand your concerns,” Mother Giselle replied, “If Dorian does not wish to go home, hopefully that will be the end of it. If not...well, that’s why I think you should go with him.” She handed the letter from Dorian’s family to Ellana.

“I see,” answered Ellana, accepting the letter. “So Dorian is not the only one who is being deceived here.” She wasn't sure how she felt about it. “Very well. I will...consider your advice on the situation.” If there were going to be lies all around, Ellana figured she may as well contribute one of her own.

“Bless you, Lady Inquisitor. The family will send a retainer to meet the young man at the Gull and Lantern Inn in Redcliffe to take him onward. If he truly does not wish for this reunion, he can always end the matter there. I shall pray for your success, and the young man’s happiness. That is all we can hope for, is it not?” 

“Quite,” Ellana replied. “Good day, Reverend Mother.”

~~~

Ellana walked up the spiral staircase to the upper library with apprehension tying knots in her stomach.

When Dorian saw her, he smirked, “It took three baths to get the feeling of dog slobber off of my skin. I hope you’re happy!”

When Ellana didn't smile, Dorian softened. “What’s wrong? You have that _face_.”

“What face?” asked Ellana.

“ _Serious_ face,” he answered, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “My girl should always be glowing with joy unfettered. It is your natural state. Something’s wrong.” Dorian put his arm around Ellana’s shoulders. “Tell me what pains you and I will smite it.” He jostled her a bit in an effort to get her to laugh and managed to be at least a little bit successful.

“It’s your family, Dorian,” she said. “They want you to come home.”

“My family?” Dorian asked. “How do you know this?”

“Your father sent a letter,” Ellana replied.

Dorian held his unoccupied hand out to her. “Give it here, my love.”

~~~

It didn’t take long for Dorian to glean what he needed from the letter. “ _I know my son_? What my father knows of me would barely fill a thimble. This is so typical! I’m willing to bet that this retainer is a henchman hired to knock me on the head and drag me to Tevinter.”

“They’d have to go through me first,” Ellana growled protectively.

“He expects me to travel with Mother Giselle, although Maker knows why he’d think I would.” Dorian let go of Ellana, leaned against a bookcase and fixed her with a determined look. “Let’s go. Let’s meet this so-called ‘family retainer.’ If it’s a trap, we escape and kill _everyone_! You’re good at that.”

“Thank you?” Ellana said with a dubious expression.

Dorian continued. “If it’s not, I send the man back to my father with the message that he can stick his _alarm_ in his _wit’s end_.”

“You know, Dorian,” Ellana said tentatively, “You haven’t talked much about your family, but from what I can tell...there seems to be a lot of bad blood between you.”

He laughed, but it was not a nice laugh. “Interesting turn of phrase.” Dorian’s ire did not seem to be aimed at her; he relaxed and explained, “You’re correct. They don’t care for my choices nor I for theirs.”

“Because you wouldn't get married?” Ellana asked. “Because you left?”

“That too,” Dorian snapped, “I wonder how much my father paid this man to wait around just in case I showed…”

“We can ask,” Ellana said. “Let’s get out of here.”

~~~

The gate to Skyhold opened and out walked Ellana, Dorian, Cole, and The Iron Bull. After they’d cleared to bridge to the mountains, Ellana looked behind her. 

The Iron Bull clapped Ellana on the shoulder, almost knocking her over. “Hey, did you talk to Cullen before we left? He was looking for you.”

Cole whispered, “Hearts race towards each other, even as love drives their bodies apart for a time.”

Ellana smiled sadly. “We’ve gone too far. Let’s keep moving.”

“Curly’s not going to like that,” mumbled Bull.

~~~

When they arrived in Redcliffe, Bull and Cole stayed outside while Dorian and Ellana entered the Gull & Lantern. It appeared to be deserted.

“Uh-oh,” Dorian said. “Nobody’s here. This doesn't bode well.”

Ellana had begun to reach for her staff when a man descended the staircase. “Dorian,” he said.

“Father,” Dorian replied flatly. “So the whole story about the “family retainer” was just...what? A smoke screen?”

“Then you were told,” Dorian’s father replied before addressing Ellana directly. “I apologize for the deception, Inquisitor. I never intended for you to be involved.”

Ellana opened her mouth to say _of course I got involved, Dorian is my best friend, I would do anything for him_ , but Dorian snapped, “Of _course_ not. Magister Pavus couldn’t come to Skyhold and be seen with the _dread_ Inquisitor. What would people think? What is _this_ exactly, Father? Ambush? Kidnapping? Warm family reunion?”

Magister Pavus sighed and said to Ellana, “This is how it has _always_ been.”

“Well, we’re here, Magister Pavus,” she replied. “You went through all this trouble, now make it count. Talk to him!”

“Yes, Father. Talk to me. Let me hear how _mystified_ you are by my anger,” said Dorian.

“Dorian, there’s no need to—”Magister Pavus began.

“I prefer the company of men,” Dorian told Ellana. “My father disapproves.” 

“This is...not exactly news, Dorian,” Ellana replied.

“And why should it be?” Dorian asked. “Why should anyone care? I have no idea.”

Ellana shrugged. “I take it that sort of thing is a big concern in Tevinter.”

“Only if you’re trying to live up to an impossible standard!” replied Dorian. “Every Tevinter family is intermarrying to distill the perfect mage, perfect body, perfect mind. The perfect leader. It means every perceived flaw—every aberration—is deviant and shameful. It must be hidden.”

Magister Pavus looked at the floor.

“Maybe he’s here to...reach out,” Ellana said gently. “At least give him a chance to explain himself.” 

“Dorian, please!” The Magister begged. “If you’ll only listen to me—”

“Why?” Dorian asked. “So you can spout more convenient lies? He taught me to _hate_ blood magic. ‘The last resort of the weak mind.’ Those are _his_ words. But what was the _first_ thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life? You tried to—” Dorian’s voice broke. “— _change_ me!”

“I only wanted what was best for you,” replied Magister Pavus.

“You wanted the best for _you_!” Dorian snapped. “For your fucking legacy! _Anything_ for that!” He walked away to another room and leaned over a table, boring into it with his eyes.

Ellana followed him and put her arm around his shoulders. “Don’t leave it like this, Dorian. You’ll never forgive yourself.”

Dorian stalked back towards his father. “Tell me why you came!”

“If I knew I would drive you to the Inquisition…” Magister Pavus began.

“You didn't!” Dorian exclaimed. “I joined the Inquisition because it’s the _right_ thing to do. Once, I had a father who would have _known_ that.” He turned to leave.

Magister Pavus spoke. “Once, I had a son who trusted me. A trust I betrayed. I only wanted to _talk_ to him. To hear his voice again. To ask him to _forgive_ me.”

Dorian paused and looked to Ellana. She nodded her assent, and father and son withdrew to speak privately.

~~~

About an hour later, Dorian was ready to leave. They reunited with Cole and the Iron Bull, and headed back in the direction of Skyhold. By the time they were a mere hour away, Cole had started to make Dorian feel...uncomfortable.

“Dorian, you _said_ I could ask you questions,” Cole reminded him.

“It's true,” Dorian said with a sigh. “I did say that.”

“Why are you so angry at your father?” asked Cole. “He wants to help and you know he does, but—”

“I'm not certain I can explain it to you,” Dorian replied.

“You love him, but you're _angry_.” Cole observed. “They mix together, boiling in the belly until it kneads into a knot."

Dorian did his best to explain. “Sometimes... sometimes love isn't enough, Cole.”

Cole was still confused. "Love isn't enough. Enough _what_? You didn't _explain_ , Dorian.”

Dorian sighed, “I was rather hoping I had.”

Cole closed his eyes and whispered, “His face in the stands, watching as I pass the test. So proud there's tears in his eyes. Anything to make him happy. _Anything_.” He looked at Dorian again. “Why isn't that true anymore?”

“Cole, this... is not the sort of discussion for walking around,” Dorian answered. “Please drop it.”

“I'm hurting you, Dorian.” Cole noted. “Words winding, wanting, wounding. You _said_ I could ask.”

Dorian rubbed the back of his neck, a habit he’d picked up from Cullen. “I _know_ I did. The things you ask are just... very personal.”

“But it _hurts_ ,” Cole said plaintively. “I want to _help_ , but it's all tangled with the love. I can't tug it loose without tearing it. You hold him _so_ tightly. You let it keep hurting, because you think hurting is who you are. Why would you do that?”

Dorian looked from Ellana to Bull and back again. “Can someone tell him to stop? Banish him back to the Fade or something!”

Ellana stopped in her tracks. “I will be the first to admit that Cole may need to give you some time because you’re still raw about it, but _banishing_ him to the Fade? That sounds more like something _Vivienne_ would say, not you. Not my best friend. He wants to help you." She shrugged. "Maybe you should let him.”

Dorian sighed. “Marvelous! Everyone's _so_ helpful!”

Now she was starting to get cross. “Yes, imagine that! Your friends want to _help_ you. How _scandalous_! Very well, Dorian.” Ellana replied. “ Will it help if he does it to _me_ as well?”

When Dorian realized that Ellana had not started walking again, he also stopped. “Ellana, you don’t have—”

Ellana held up her hand at Dorian and turned to Cole. “Go ahead, Cole. Do your thing.”

The pale boy closed his eyes a moment, then the words came tumbling out:

“The halla takes off and she gives chase till she can run no more. Mamae, mamae, the child cries. That day the Stormbringer calls down her first cloudburst.”

Ellana nodded. “Keep going.”

“The Stormbringer stares at the sword of the Spymaster. She knows that if she takes it she can _never_ go back. Gripping the hilt, the Lady takes her vow. _This_ is to be her family now.”

She bit her lip. “Go on.”

“New blood. Brother. He stops her from rushing into despair and oblivion, holds her bloodstained hand fast, and saves us all.”

“That’s _enough_ , Cole.” said Dorian.

“No,” said Cole. “It's _not_." He continued, "Hearthkeeper, heal him. Soothe his suffering. If his heart stops, so will mine."

"Alright," Ellana said. "I think I've made my—"

Cole whispered, "She opens to him like a flower, but he does not pluck the blossom.”

Ellana winced. 

Dorian took her hand. “You didn't have to do that.”

“Of _course_ I did,” Ellana replied, smiling at him with tears in her eyes. “You needed to be shown, and not just be told, that you aren't alone. As long as I draw breath, you will _never_ be alone.”

Ellana and Dorian embraced fiercely. Dorian stroked Ellana’s hair and whispered into her ear. “You would do well to remember that for yourself, my love. You have _all_ of Thedas on your shoulders, but you don’t have to bear the burden alone. There are so many people who love you and who want to help support you. Lean on us. We will _not_ break. You've made us strong.”

~~~

Weary from strain both physical and emotional, Ellana finally made it to Cullen’s door and knocked. 

It did not take long for him to answer. “Ellana!” he said with a smile. “How did you know I’d still be awake?”

“You talk in your sleep,” she said, fatigued. “I wouldn't want to dream either, if I were you.” She held her arms out to him. “Pick me up? Everything _hurts_.”

“Of course,” Cullen whispered, lifting her into his arms. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Are you all right? Is there anything you need?”

Ellana nestled her head against Cullen’s chest. “Take me to bed.”

Cullen coughed nervously. “Wh—what? Are—are you _sure_?”

Ellana laughed weakly. “Do I _look_ like I’m in any condition for _those_ shenanigans?” She reached up and caressed his cheek. “I’m not asking you to make love to me, Cullen. I just want you to carry me to my room and hold me while I sleep.” She fell back and sighed. “I know it’s not very _exciting_ —”

Cullen had already started locking up by the time she had finished her sentence. As he began to walk the long way to her room, he whispered again, “ _Nothing_ would give me greater pleasure.” He chuckled softly. “Under the circumstances.”


	18. Spoiled Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Ellana objects to the military style uniform she must wear to the ball, Cullen looks for ways to bend the rules for her and make her dreams come true with a little help from her friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **NOTE: Spoiled Sweet takes place over Week 2 and 3 of Shall We Dance.**

She’d been gone again, as she was wont to do, for days; this time aiding a Dalish clan in the Exalted Plains. Upon her return, she’d gushed about how she, Solas, Cole, and Blackwall had found Hanal'ghilan, a golden halla sacred to the elves, and how they’d cleansed a sacred burial ground, and stocked the Clan's camp supplies to bursting.

“I think they’re beginning to trust me,” she had said without irony.

Cullen had laughed. “Only just now? The Dalish have high standards.”

“We’re a cagey people,” she had replied with a smile. “You should be grateful. If I hadn't had such high standards drilled into me, I’d have been married off by now.”

She had been joking, of course. But the very thought of her slipping away from him caused a twinge in his chest. He kissed her, and insisted that he spend the night. “It has been...unseasonably cold,” he’d said. It was a lie. She had known it was a lie when he began hemming and hawing about damp wood when she pointed out that she had a fireplace. But she smiled and indulged him.

Every night since she’d come home to him, he’d had a new excuse ready. He had even gone so far as to ask Sera for advice, and in return, the little mercenary demanded that his men aid the Friends of Red Jenny on several operations.

It was worth it.

He supposed that he could have just come clean with her, said that he _wanted_ to stay, that he _needed_ her, that it caused him tangible, physical _pain_ to be apart from her, but he didn't want her to think he was weak or needy. 

Even if that is what he thought of himself.

~~~

Cullen groaned when the light crept through the stained glass windows of Ellana’s room. Light meant morning and morning meant work and work meant things like armor, and leaving her bed, and not being so hopelessly, helplessly, happily tangled up in her embrace. As gently as possible, so he would not disturb her, he reached for a pillow and angled it so as to shield her from the dawn, making it possible to remain ensconced with her a little while longer in a fabricated night. 

He made the mistake of looking down, and was displeased that he could not see her face, as she was resting it against his heart. Cullen sighed. It would mean waking her, but…

Ellana awoke to the feel of Cullen’s lips as he traced the vallaslin on her face with soft, feather-light kisses. When he saw that she was awake, he moved more directly to her mouth. 

“Good morning, Sugar Lips,” he whispered, before angling her face towards his and sweeping his tongue between those lips with a moan.

Her mouth slipped against his. She found herself giggling as well as returning his kiss, “Cullen...my breath...is atrocious!”

Cullen continued to nip at her, first her top lip, then the bottom one. He whispered against her mouth, “So is mine. I don’t _care_.” He sucked her bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled it a little bit before releasing her.

“Oh, how romantic!” said Josephine with a giggle. 

Cullen jumped. “Maker’s Breath, don’t you knock?”

“Why?” the ambassador asked impishly. “You’re decent.”

"You didn't know that coming in!" Cullen balked.

"Please, Commander," scoffed Josephine. "If you two were engaging in...acts of a sensual nature...all of Skyhold would have heard you going at it."

"You could have just said 'sex', Lady Ambassador," quipped Dorian. "We're _all_ adults here. I think."

Cullen groaned and scrubbed at his face with his fingertips. "Andraste's flaming ass, will you all _get out_?"

"No." Dorian answered, leaning against the wall. "I want to see how the uniforms look. Ellana promised me an invitation to the ball, didn't you, my love?"

Ellana's muffled voice emerged from under a pile of pillows. "That I did." There was a pause and then the pillows scattered in all directions, including Cullen's head. As their guests desperately tried to mask their laughter, she blurted out, "Uniforms?"

"Yes," replied Leliana. "Uniforms. We need to present a united front to the Imperial Court." She handed a parcel each to Cullen and Ellana before passing out the others to Josephine and Dorian. "We're not going there to have fun. We're there to _work_."

Josephine snorted. "This coming from the woman who will be staring at people's shoes all night."

Leliana squared her shoulders. "You can tell a _lot_ about a person by their shoes," she replied.

Cullen looked over at Ellana, who was quietly passing her parcel from hand to hand, biting her lip. He addressed the others. "Is that all? I require a moment alone...with...with—"

"Your _girlfriend_?" Leliana asked as she descended the stairs. "Of course." She turned to Josephine and Dorian. "You heard the Commander."

After the downstairs door shut, Cullen crouched in front of Ellana and caressed her cheek. "You're disappointed."

She shook her head. "It was a silly dream, Cullen. I'm a Dalish barbarian. I should consider myself fortunate that I could secure passage to Halamshiral without having to pass as a servant." 

Ellana smiled at Cullen, eyes moist with tears, and he thought his heart was going to break. "Don't say that about yourself," he whispered. "It hurts me to hear it."

"I'm sorry." Ellana looked down at the package, blinked, and then looked up at him again. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go change! You’re always so handsome in uniform."

"I can change here," he said quietly. "I've seen you..." Cullen bit his lip and blushed. "It's only fair."

Ellana laughed weakly. "Oh, but if you did _that_ , I may not be able to control my savage urges. The _urges_ , Cullen! Oh, the urges!"

Cullen snorted. "I think I can defend myself."

Ellana fixed him with a look that made him hard. "Not against what _I_ want to do to you."

~~~

Ellana was fussing with her hair in the mirror when she saw Cullen’s reflection emerge from her bathroom. She quickly turned around to be sure it wasn't some trick of the mind. “Cullen!” she gasped. “You’re—” Suddenly at a loss for words, she hurried up to him and touched his chest.

Cullen covered her hand with his. “Is something...wrong?”

“It’s as if you walked out of my dreams. I had to make sure you were real,” she said with a smile. “I wanted to walk out of your dreams too. But I guess _this_ —” she gestured to her uniform, “—will have to do.”

Cullen chuckled. “Ellana, if you stepped out of my dreams at the ball, it would cause a scandal.”

Ellana snorted. “I look like a boy,” she grumbled.

“No,” Cullen replied, pulling her close. “You look like a very beautiful, but very unhappy woman who deserves better.”

~~~

“Madame de Fer?” Cullen asked. Vivienne’s back was turned to him as she stood on her balcony, surveying the courtyard.

“Commander. To what do I owe this pleasure?” Vivienne turned around, then blinked as Cullen bowed in greeting. “Has Ellana _seen_ you yet?”

“Yes. That’s what I came here to—” he began.

“Ellana is slipping,” interrupted Vivienne. “She and I will have to have a little chat. I can teach her the subtle art of...tying knots in silk scarves.”

“I beg your pardon?” Cullen asked.

“You’ll thank me later, darling,” Vivienne replied. “Now. Am I to take it that this is the _official_ Inquisition uniform for the mission at Halamshiral?”

“Correct. You see—”

“Which means Ellana must be wearing the same thing,” she observed. She shook her head in disapproval and took a sip of wine. “Not with _her_ hips.” Vivienne narrowed her eyes at Cullen. “Well, Commander. When do we leave?”

Cullen’s eyes widened. “How did you know?”

Vivienne smiled gently. “Because I know that the most important thing to you is her happiness. I’d be worried about you spoiling the girl at this rate, but—”

“She’s _much_ too sweet for that,” said Dorian.

Vivienne narrowed her eyes. “What are _you_ doing here?”

Dorian chuckled. “Oh, the Commander didn't tell you? I’m coming with you to Val Royeaux.”

Vivienne’s eyes flashed at Cullen. He smirked. “You aren't going to back out now, are you, Madame de Fer?”

She pointed at Dorian. “You just...stay out of my way.”

She swept past the men. Dorian mimicked her behind her back. Cullen groaned. 

_Maker’s Breath, what have I gotten myself into_?

~~~

“What did you tell her?” Dorian asked.

Cullen was busy staring at the gleaming edifices of Val Royeaux’ fashion district. He hadn't noticed that he was actually being asked a legitimate question until Vivienne poked him with her staff. “I’m sorry, what?”

Dorian repeated the question.

“Training exercise for mages and templars working in tandem” Cullen answered.

“It’s _technically_ true at least,” Vivienne remarked.

“ _Former_. Templar,” Cullen clarified.

“Still. Not _bad_ ,” said Dorian.

“I have my moments,” replied Cullen. “So, which way?”

“That depends,” said Dorian. “There are fashion houses from all the civilized nations of Thedas. To the north, we have the Antivan houses. To the south, lie the Nevarran houses.”

“The Orlesian houses are on the west side of the district,” Vivienne added, “and the Tevinter houses are on the east side—Commander, are you _listening_ to me?”

Cullen had strode ahead and was staring through a nearby shop window. There, on a small velvet-covered pedestal, lay a rose gold band with purple diamonds set in the shape of a flower, adorned in an embrace of smaller white diamonds. 

Vivienne laid her hand gently on his shoulder. “Commander, it’s _exquisite_.”

Cullen whispered, “Do you know her size, Madame de Fer?”

Vivienne sighed. “I’m sorry, my dear. Dress size, shoe size, those I can give you. Ellana doesn't wear much jewelry—”

“—beyond the enchanted rings and amulets she wears in the field, that is,” said Dorian. “You know who would know her ring size? Dagna. Ellana gets things re-sized by her all the time!”

Cullen bit his lip. “That means if I bought her the wrong size—”

“Dagna could make alterations with Ellana none the wiser!” Dorian gripped Cullen by the shoulder. “She might even be able to add a little extra enchantment to it.” He chuckled gently. “Your love would _literally_ protect her.”

Cullen blushed and shook his head. “We didn't come here for this. This is—we haven’t even—I don’t know if she—what if she wants to...go _home_...after all this is over?” He turned away from the window and surveyed the street yet again.

“Cullen, there’s something you should know about Ellana,” Dorian said. “Cole told me that—” 

“Ugh, don’t encourage that thing!” exclaimed Vivienne.

“Now, now, Madame! The Commander isn't a thing. He’s a person with feelings and—”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “Let’s just get going. I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to be.” He rolled his eyes nervously. “Orlesian or Tevinter?”

“Orlesian,” answered Vivienne.

“Tevinter,” replied Dorian.

“Not. Helping,” groaned Cullen. “Fine. It’s an Orlesian ball, we’ll look at Orlesian dresses first.”

Dorian sighed.

~~~

Two hours later…

“Maker’s breath, does everything have to be so... _poofy_?” Cullen asked.

Vivienne rolled her eyes. “These are ball gowns, Commander. That is what we are here for, is it not?”

“But...Ellana is petite. Delicate. She’d get lost in one of these,” Cullen answered. “She should wear the dress, not the other way around.”

“They’re more like decadent pastries than dresses,” remarked Dorian. “Ostentatious.” He rose to his feet and held his hand out to Cullen. “Come on, then. It’s Tevinter time.”

As they walked past Vivienne, Dorian stuck out his tongue at her. She retaliated by casting an ice patch in front of them, which Cullen ended up slipping on and landing full force on top of Dorian.

“Ugh. I’m too pretty to die!” whimpered Dorian.

Vivienne swept past. “Laying around then? Some people have it _dead_ easy.”

~~~

Cullen eyed a sleek-looking, high-collared gown whose skirt ended in a cascading trail of feathers. “It’s awfully... _dark_ for a festive occasion.”

“Is that your _only_ complaint then?” asked Dorian. “Because the colors can be changed, you know. You’re already getting it haute couture. So, let me guess. Violet and gold? Hand over the measurements, Vivienne. We have a winner!”

“Not so fast, darling,” said Vivienne, holding the parchment out of Dorian’s reach. “ _Only_ if I get to pick the shoes.”

“Are you seriously holding Ellana’s dress hostage?” asked Cullen. “For shoes? Are you mad?”

“It’s _shoes_ , my dear.” Vivienne replied. “Do you even have more than one pair?”

“She has a point you know,” concurred Dorian.

“Wait. Did you two just _actually_ agree on something?” Cullen asked. “I’m _shocked_.”

Vivienne and Dorian looked at each other and shrugged. “It certainly appears so,” said Vivienne.

“Very well, then,” said Cullen rubbing the back of his neck. “Let her have the shoes, Dorian.”

“Excellent!” Vivienne exclaimed.

~~~

Vivienne held up a pair of gold slippers, the heel consisting of leaves sculpted from gold and topped with a purple butterfly just above the toe of each shoe.

Cullen looked at them sideways. “Is that... _real_ gold?”

“Yes, darling,” Vivienne replied.

“Is anyone even going to _see_ them under all those feathers?”

“What matters is that _she_ knows they are there, but yes. Any true Orlesian worth their salt will notice.” She laid a fingertip under Cullen’s chin and pushed up gently. “Close your mouth, my dear. These are actually quite tame by Imperial ball standards.”

“Dorian?” Cullen asked.

Dorian barely looked up from his book, but he smiled as he did so. “She’ll love them.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

~~~

By the time they were ready to leave Val Royeaux, it was dusk. Shops were beginning to close.

“Well, then.” Dorian said. “We can either get dinner before we leave...or you can get Ellana that ring.”

“What will your choice be, Commander?” asked Vivienne.

Cullen closed his eyes, felt the warm breeze caress his face and made a decision.

~~~

“Did you think I wasn't going to find out, Commander?” asked Leliana. She pushed his dinner aside and snapped her fingers to get his attention. 

“It’s good to see you too, Leliana. Why yes, I had a _lovely_ trip! Thank you _so_ much for asking,” he replied sarcastically.

The Spymaster narrowed her eyes. “I had my reasons for the uniforms, and you—”

“I understand that,” Cullen explained. “But hear me out. The Inquisitor—”

“You can use her name with me too, you know,” snapped Leliana. “It’s not like I’m unfamiliar with it.”

Cullen sighed. “Ellana will likely be a part of the peace talks if all goes smoothly, yes?”

Leliana nodded, but said nothing.

Cullen leaned forward, steepling his hands. “She will need to be able to negotiate from a position of strength. Being Dalish, she’s already working at a disadvantage. But if she were to present herself in the right way, they may be forced to perceive her as an equal. She can’t do that if she looks the same as the rest of us.”

Leliana blinked. 

Sensing victory, Cullen sat back and resumed eating his dinner.

“Your reasoning is... _sound_ ,” Leliana finally said. “I’ll allow it.” She walked to the door of his office, but paused with her hand on the handle. “And that’s the _only_ reason, right? So Ellana can win the Grand Game?”

Cullen sighed. “No.”

Leliana raised an eyebrow at him.

“I want her to be happy, Leliana,” he said, staring down at his desk. “I love her.”

The Spymaster smirked. “So long as you admit it.” She opened the door. “Your original justification. Did you come up with that yourself?”

Cullen nodded.

“Not bad.” Leliana said with a slight genuflection. “I knew we kept you around for more reasons than you looking pretty.”

“I aim to please,” replied Cullen.

“And she will be _very_ pleased, I’m sure,” she said with a smile. “Good night, Commander.”


	19. Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition attends the Imperial Masquerade Ball. Mayhem ensues. MAYHEM.

Ellana, Cullen, Cassandra, Leliana, Josephine, Dorian, Sera and the Iron Bull checked into L’Hotel du Lion Vantard.

Josephine was a nervous wreck, Cullen was fidgety, Cassandra was bored, and Leliana was placid as a mountain lake. Beyond that, everyone was acting weird. Especially towards Ellana. As if this whole situation wasn't foreign and confusing enough. Before she even entered her own room, she walked to Cullen’s suite across the hall and knocked on the door. “Bonjour, mon chevalier!” she said, and put her ear to the door.

It sounded like something crashed to the floor and broke. “Maker’s breath!” Cullen groaned before opening the door with a nervous smile. “Bonjour, Lèvres de Sucre,” he whispered.

Ellana’s smile spread wider. “I didn't know you spoke Orlesian.”

Cullen rolled his eyes. “I speak a little. A few select phrases.” He blushed. “Mostly for the express purpose of whispering them in your ear later.”

“Why not now?” Ellana asked with a wink.

“You haven’t been to your room yet, have you?” Cullen volleyed.

“No…” Ellana answered.

“You should _probably_ go do that,” Cullen said with a crooked grin. He leaned in and captured her lips with his own. “See you in two hours,” he whispered against her mouth before he closed the door.

_Two hours? Why so—_

Suddenly, Ellana was grabbed from behind, gagged, head covered, and hands bound. She tried to call out for Cullen anyway, but everything she did seemed to happen in slow motion. Because of this, she had no idea how long it was before she reached the intended destination. All the while she wondered why he couldn't hear the commotion right outside his door.

At some point, she was seated in a surprisingly comfortable chair. She had just started to relax a little (because no one expects comfortable chairs when they’re being abducted) when she heard a door open. “Ellana? I need to ask you—” Cassandra’s voice stopped short. “What in Andraste’s name are you all doing?”

Someone tried to hush her, but one does not simply hush Cassandra Pentaghast. “I will _not_ be quiet!” she said, her voice growing louder and louder. “What is the meaning of this?”

There was a labored sigh and Ellana's hood was lifted. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” grumbled Leliana. “And now you've spoilt it. You’re no fun _at all_ , Cassandra.”

“ _I’m_ no fun?” asked Cassandra. “You gagged her! What could be the purpose of that?”

“I can think of several,” replied Dorian. Everybody turned to stare at him. “What?”

“And you! Her best friend!” Cassandra scolded Dorian.

Sera grunted. “Ugh. The gag keeps her from alerting the guards an’ bringing the whole thing down on our heads!”

Josephine finally started whispering explanations in Cassandra’s ear while The Iron Bull loosened and removed Ellana’s restraints. “Waste of perfectly good bondage," he sighed. "Too bad she and Cullen weren't able to get any enjoyment out of it.”

“ _I_ know someone who’s going to get some enjoyment out of it later,” murmured Dorian with a sly smile.

Bull chuckled and mussed Ellana’s hair. “You all right, Asaaranda?”

She nodded. “What’s going on?”

Bull stepped out of the way and Dorian stepped forward, holding The Dress. “My love,” he asked, “do you remember when Cullen took Vivienne and I out for a mage-templar training exercise?”

Ellana gasped. Free from her bonds, she stood and touched the dress reverently. “Oh, Cullen!” she exclaimed, a tear rolling down her cheek.

Dorian stopped her from leaving. “I think the best way you can thank him right now is to...let us help you get ready for the ball.”

~~~

It was the designated time.

Cullen looked at his reflection in the mirror, fixed his hair for what must have been the twentieth time, and smoothed out imaginary wrinkles in his uniform. “She’s seen it before, you know. Nothing to be nervous about,” he mumbled to himself. He looked down at the vanity and gazed at the rose gold ring with purple diamonds that sat atop it. _Don’t forget the ring. Don’t forget the ring. Don’t forget the ring. Everything has to be perfect. Everything—_

There was a knock on the door. It was Dorian. “Princess Sugar Lips is ready and waiting.”

Cullen answered the door with shaking hands. “How do I look? Do I look alright?"

"You look—” Dorian started.

"How's my hair? Do I have anything in my teeth?"

"No, they're—”

"Did she like the dress? Tell me she liked the dress!”

“She _loves_ the dress—” Dorian began.

“Cullen?”

It was Ellana. The choice of dress had been a good one; it didn't reveal much skin, but it hugged her body like a glove, and, if one was looking, they could make out the glint of her gilded shoes beneath the feathered hem. Her hair, that she'd grown so irritated with as of late, was woven into an elegant chignon. The fact that the dress was of Tevinter design would cause a commotion as it was, but Cullen was at that moment convinced that Ellana could very well steal the ball right out from under all those stuffy nobles, and even the empress herself, with her allure alone.

Cullen’s heart jumped in his chest at the sight of her. “Andraste preserve me,” he whispered. “You’re _so_ beautiful!”

“I’m sorry,” she said shyly. “I didn't want to wait any longer.”

Cullen reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. "I'm sure I'll find _some_ way to forgive you." He bowed and offered his arm to her. "Your carriage awaits, my lady." And together, they walked arm in arm towards the hotel lobby.

Everyone around them stared, mystified by what they were seeing. At least, they did until Cullen looked back over his shoulder at them with the biggest, proudest, silliest grin anyone had ever seen. Most of them had the class to suppress their giggles until Cullen and Ellana were out of earshot.

 _Most_ of them.

~~~

Cullen held Ellana's hand tightly during the carriage ride to the palace. He felt like he was throwing her to the wolves. _Two-faced demonic wolves with poison fangs. Two-faced demonic wolves with poison fangs whose favorite meal is Dalish elf_. He knew that he had to stay in the ballroom all night, rendered utterly useless, that he could not follow if her work led her to the forbidden places in the castle, and that ultimately he could not protect her.

And his jacket was a little tight in the shoulders. That was rather irritating.

"Cullen, are you all right?" Ellana asked quietly.

"I'm fine!" Cullen's voice pitched upwards awkwardly and he cleared his throat. "Never better."

Ellana smirked. "Worst liar in Thedas," she whispered, and she squeezed his hand, then tugged him towards her. Coiling the fingers of her other hand in his hair, she tilted her face upwards, and brushed her nose against his.

Cullen sighed and closed his eyes as his lips ghosted over hers. "We shouldn't. You'll ruin your makeup—"

Ellana's tongue darted out and she slowly licked the length of his scar. Cullen gasped and impulsively sucked her bottom lip into his mouth. Then they reached for each other and—

The carriage came to a halt, the door opened, and before they could step outside, Leliana hopped in, wielding a jar of lip color. “Don’t look so shocked,” she said with a smirk as she re-applied Ellana’s makeup. “I _know_ you two.” With her other hand, she produced a handkerchief and handed it to Cullen. “You've a smudge on your scar.” Leliana winked at Ellana, then turned serious. “The Duke awaits you, let’s go!”

~~~

Halamshiral was a magnificent beast of a palace, like a high dragon in building form. At least that was the easiest way for Ellana to take the whole thing in; a creature of pure chaos that she needed to defeat, only in this case, she wouldn't be slaying it with her magic, but with her wit. Josephine had balked at the selection of guests that she chose to invite as part of her personal entourage, but despite the obviousness of Ellana’s thumbing her nose at Orlesian pretensions, she had her strategic reasons as well: Bull was as good as Leliana at reading people and Sera wasn't far behind. Of course, Dorian was Dorian. She wouldn't dream of embarking on such a daunting undertaking without him. 

That, and she’d promised to take him along.

Grand Duke Gaspard bowed to her at her approach, a little too deeply for someone with his catlike reflexes. He practically oozed disdain towards the proceedings and radiated no small amount of apprehension towards her as he took her hand and formally brought it to his lips. “My Lady Inquisitor, such a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

At that moment, Ellana longed for one of the masks the Orlesians wore. One had been made for her, in the shape of a mischievous cat face no less, but it had been decided that it would look strange with her dress, and that it would somehow give the wrong impression about how the Inquisition would handle Tevinter-Orlesian relations. _So much convoluted symbolism attached to what people wore!_ So, barred from the use of that armor, she adopted her best Wicked Grace face and hoped she was doing Varric proud. She curtsied low. “Enchanté, Your Grace.”

“Ah, so the Dalish have manners after all!” he exclaimed. “Bringing the Rebel Mages into the ranks of your Army was a brilliant maneuver. Imagine what the Inquisition could accomplish with the full support of the rightful Emperor of Orlais!” 

"And which one was the rightful one again?" Ellana asked with a playful smile on her lips. "I keep getting them confused."

There was a hint of amusement in Gaspard's voice when he spoke. "The handsome, charming one of course, my Lady!" He said with another bow. "I am not the sort of man who forgets his friends, Inquisitor. You help me, I'll help you. My Lady, are you prepared to shock the court by walking into the ball with a hateful usurper? They will be telling stories of this into the next age."

"I can't imagine that crowd has seen anything better than us in our entire lives!" Ellana said with a smirk.

"You are a woman after my own heart, My Lady!" Gaspard's offered her his arm. "As a friend, perhaps there is a matter you could undertake this evening. This elven woman, Briala...I suspect that she intends to disrupt the negotiations. My people have found these 'ambassadors' all over the fortifications. Sabotage seems the least of their crimes."

"Tell me there's more to your suspicions than 'the elves were acting dodgy'" Ellana replied, raising her eyebrow.

"That 'Ambassador' Briala used to be a servant of Celene's," Gaspard explained. "That is, until my cousin had her arrested for crimes against the Empire to cover up a political mistake. If anyone in this room wishes Celene harm, Inquisitor, it's that elf. She _certainly_ has reason." He sighed. "Be as discreet as possible. I detest the Game but if we do not play it well, our enemies will make us look like villains. We're keeping the court waiting, Inquisitor. Shall we?"

After busying herself with some trivial but politically advantageous matters outside, Ellana entered the palace.

~~~

Cullen stood at the top of the stairs trying desperately not to fidget. It was warm, it was cold, he was sweating, he was shivering, his whole body ached. He was sure that his nerves were intensifying his withdrawal symptoms and he would find little relief until he had Ellana to himself again. Dorian took his place nearby. He whispered, “Did you remember the ring?”

 _Did I? Of course I did. I wouldn’t forget something so important, so integral to making everything perfect for Ellana_. Cullen nodded and Dorian smiled warmly at him. “I’m so happy for you two!”

“I haven’t asked her yet,” Cullen mumbled. “And she hasn't said yes yet.” _Maker please, please let her say yes._

Dorian chuckled. “As if there were any doubt.”

“She’d have to give up a lot to marry a human,” Cullen protested. “Most Dalish are banished from their Clans for it. It may be...too much to ask—”

The Duke descended the stairs. That meant Ellana could not be far behind. Cullen snapped his mouth shut and watched for her.

The Announcer called out, “And now presenting: Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons. And accompanying him...Lady Inquisitor Lavellan.”

Ellana was soon beside the Grand Duke, and, at the announcement of her name, curtsied deeply to Empress Celene. As she walked towards the Empress, the announcer continued.

“Vanquisher of the rebel mages of Ferelden, crusher of the vile apostates of the mage underground!”

“He is _so_ full of it,” Sera grumbled. “That’s not how it went!”

“Champion of the Blessed Andraste Herself!”

Gaspard chuckled, “Did you see their faces? Priceless.”

“Accompanying the Inquisitor: Seeker Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena—”

“Get _on_ with it!” shouted Cassandra.

“Pentaghast! Fourteenth cousin to the King of Nevarra, nine times removed. Hero of Orlais. Right Hand of the Divine.”

"The Iron Bull, leader of the famed mercenary company, Bull’s Chargers...as the name might imply.”

“Lord Dorian Pavus, member of the Circle of Vyrantium. Son of Lord Magister Halward Pavus of Asariel.” 

“Her Ladyship Mai Bhalsych Of Korse!”

At that, Sera, Dorian, and Cullen all snorted with laughter. And then— 

“Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath!” _Shit._ Cullen bit his tongue to make himself stop giggling and started his walk towards the Empress.

Ellana turned and looked at him over her shoulder with a dazzling smile that almost made him trip over his own feet. Even though he knew he shouldn't encourage such impropriety, he couldn't help but grin back at her. 

“Commander of the Forces of the Inquisition…” _Keep it together, Cullen. Almost there, and then you can find a nice piece of wall to stick to. For the rest of the night._

“...former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall.” He stopped right behind Ellana. 

_Oh, thank the Maker_! 

Cullen stared at the back of her neck and tuned out everything else until he felt something brush against his leg.

It was Ellana’s hand.

He took it and she squeezed his hand gently before letting it go again. 

Finally, Cullen was able to relax a little, and he exhaled.

~~~

Ellana patted Sera on the back. "How are you liking the ball?"

Sera looked at her sideways. "I _hate_ you."

"You know," said Ellana reassuringly, "I figured you would take this opportunity to sabotage the festivities in your own, personal, Sera style. Why aren't you getting inappropriately drunk or stealing whatever isn't nailed down?"

Sera hiccuped. "What makes you think I haven't?"

Ellana's eyes widened. "Already?"

The rogue snorted. "Andraste's tits, you're gullible! I'll have you know that I’m a _professional_. And a professional never drinks on the job."

Ellana raised an eyebrow at Sera. "So you admit you are on a job. You know, being on the job doesn't stop Bull from having a little fun." 

"Well, when you're as big as he is, you can afford to have a little fun. But _I_ have to stay sharp. Speaking of sharp, you need to know something about your shoes.” Sera leaned in conspiratorially and whispered in Ellana’s ear. “When nobody was looking, I sharpened the edges of those golden leaves on your shoes. In case you can't get to a weapon, you can always swipe at somebody with those."

Ellana smirked. "I'm sure that will come in handy. Thank you, Sera. I’m _touched_ that my personal welfare is such a big concern for you.” She grabbed Sera by the shoulders and gave her a sloppy wet kiss on the cheek.

“Ugh!” Sera exclaimed, blushing furiously and rubbing her cheek with the back of her hand. “I’m going to catch the Elfy from you, I just _know_ it!”

“You should _be_ so lucky!” Ellana said with a laugh, then she headed over to check on Bull.

~~~

“You know, this has got to be the first time I've ever seen you with a shirt on!” Ellana said, punching Bull on the shoulder affectionately.

“It’s difficult to put them on most of the time,” he said with a chuckle.

“Is it your rippling muscles?” Ellana asked, her eyes dancing with mirth. “Are they getting in the way?”

Bull snorted. “It’s the horns. They...tend to get caught.”

Ellana burst out laughing.

“Usually in the sleeves,” Bull added, grinning widely.

“Thank goodness for button-downs, then!” Ellana remarked.

“But then I’d have to go to more of these circuses,” he groaned. “Besides, they _itch_.” He looked at her for a moment. “Why did you bring me here anyway, Asaaranda?”

“You’re my friend,” Ellana replied. “And I trust your judgement.”

“That’s not a reason to drag me to an Orlesian palace and throw me into the middle of the Grand Game,” Bull said with a crooked smile. “What’s your _real_ angle?”

Ellana softened. “I've seen the way Dorian looks at you.”

Bull grunted. “The Vint? He’s _shameless_.”

“And,” added Ellana, “I've seen the way you look at him when you think no one is watching.” She smiled. “You’re sharp, Bull. Very observant. But your peripheral vision is... _somewhat_ compromised.” She laid her hand on his arm. “It’s alright to admit that you care for him—”

Bull shook his head. “You’re wrong. Dorian’s great in the sack, but I—I can’t get involved with him that way. It jeopardizes my work.”

“Your work for the Inquisition or for the Ben-Hassrath?” Ellana asked, her eyes flashing. “Because as far as _I’m_ concerned, your happiness and Dorian’s happiness is a priority. I know they don’t give a shit about personal happiness under the Qun—”

“You’re right,” Bull snapped. “They don’t, and they shouldn't. Feelings...mess everything up. You know what you get when everybody obeys their every whim? Chaos. And people like _us_ have to clean up the mess.”

Ellana blinked. “I—I’m so sorry. That was untoward and unworthy of me. Next time, I’ll mind my own business.” She turned to leave. 

“Asaaranda, wait.” Bull gently grabbed Ellana by the wrist. “You’re...not wrong. About Dorian. But I just don’t see how it could work.” He smiled sadly.

Ellana rested her head against his stomach. “You’re hungry. You should go check out the buffet table.”

The Iron Bull looked at her curiously and waited for the other shoe to drop.

“And afterwards, you should ask Dorian to dance. This is Orlais. No one is going to look twice.” She said with a smirk.

“I’ll think about it,” Bull grunted.

“You do that,” Ellana retorted.

“ _Maybe_ I will!” Bull said, smirking.

Ellana rolled her eyes. “ _Bye_ , Bull!”

“One more thing, Asaaranda. See that crowd over there?” he asked.

Ellana turned around. There must have been a cluster of more than a dozen people. “Yes.”

“It’s a meat market,” Bull said. “And Cullen is the main course. You might want to consider rescuing your...ahem, mansel in distress.”

~~~

Cullen thought he would be alright as soon as he found a nice piece of wall to stand in front of. After all, there were so many important people, dignitaries, and nobility around, he figured he could just fade into the background. _No such luck. Of course, now that I’m in love with someone, the admirers show up. Fifteen of them. Nine women, six men. Maker's breath_!

“Smile, Commander! You’re so handsome when you smile!” gushed a woman.

 _Ugh. No_.

“He is just as handsome when he doesn't,” a man sighed.

 _I can’t win_.

He was getting a headache and desperately wanted to hit something. Instinctively, he knew things were only going to get worse. 

_Orlesians are horrid. If I never had to set foot in this Maker-forsaken place again, it wouldn't be soon enough_.

“Are you married, Commander?” another man asked.

_Please let her say yes._

“Not _yet_ , but I am...already taken,” Cullen replied. 

_Where is Ellana_? He’d lost track of her in the sea of people.

“Still single, then...” the man said, hopefully.

 _Oh, please tell me more about my shiny hair and my beautiful eyes and_ — “Did you just...grab my bottom?” Cullen yelped.

Some woman giggled. “I couldn't help myself!”

Her giggling didn't last long. Out of the corner of his eye, Cullen spotted Ellana daintily squeezing her way through the throng of admirers with a look of tranquil fury on her face. 

It was quite possibly the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his life thus far.

She stood behind the other woman with a full glass of chilled, sparkling wine and winked at Cullen before colliding with the perpetrator and dumping the entire glass of wine down the back of her neck. 

The no-longer-giggling woman turned around abruptly. Unfortunately for her, she saw the elf before she saw the Inquisitor. “Why, you clumsy little savage!” By the time she realized her mistake, it was too late.

Ellana’s mark began to pulsate. As she looked at the giggler with wide eyes, Cullen tried not to piss himself laughing. “Save yourself! I don’t know how long I can control it!”

The giggler ran off, as did a few other devotees within range. There would be others to take their places eventually, but it was worth it just to see them scatter as if...struck by...lightning.

Cullen looked at Ellana’s other hand. She was shaking some leftover sparks onto the floor. “What?” she asked innocently. “It was just a harmless cantrip, I _swear_!”

_What? What? If we weren't working right at this moment, I would be tearing your dress off of you in another room right now, that’s what_. “Please tell me you have a lead on the infiltrator,” he whispered. 

Ellana shook her head. “You've attracted quite a following, but you look _miserable_! Don’t you _like_ the attention?” 

“Hardly,” Cullen replied. “Anyway, yours—" he cleared his throat "—yours is the only attention worth having.” 

Ellana’s expression suddenly became nervous. She bit her lip, looked at the ground, then looked back up at him through her eyelashes. “I...I don’t suppose you’d save a dance for me.” 

“No.” Cullen answered. “Thank you.” 

“Oh.” It wasn't until he saw her blush with embarrassment that he realized that he’d answered reflexively. 

“No! I didn't mean to—Maker’s breath! I've answered that question so many times, I’m rejecting it automatically.” _Save it for later. The look on her face when I surprise her will be worth it_. “I’m not one for dancing. The Templars never attended balls.” 

Ellana’s disappointment was palpable. Her shoulders slumped a little, even as she tried to force her face into a bland smile that came out all crooked and wrong and somehow sadder than tears. Cullen could tell she thought he was rejecting her, and he seriously considered dropping the whole charade then and there. She gazed out the window as if it was too painful to look at him and it made him ache. “Have—have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?” she asked quietly. 

“Not yet. It would be easier if people would stop talking to me—other people,” he laughed nervously. _Why does this keep happening_? _Why_? “Not you.” 

Her eyes wide, Ellana dipped her head politely and walked away. Cullen watched her, and was unsure if he’d ever seen her looking so diminished. He took a deep breath. There was a plan he had to stick to. Everything would work out if he just waited for the right moment. 

~~~

After she’d composed herself somewhat, Ellana found Dorian in the inner courtyard. “What are you doing all the way out here?” she asked. 

_Four weeks of dance lessons down the drain..._

“Avoiding the ham,” Dorian replied. “It tastes like despair.”

“Is that... _all_ you’re avoiding?” Ellana asked. 

_He doesn't even want to try..._

“Oh you mean the dirty looks? The wrinkled noses like I smell of rotten cabbage?” Dorian shrugged. “Just another day ending in ‘y’.”

“I’m sorry, Dorian,” Ellana sighed. “I rather hoped that you would have a good time.” 

_Is this why he got me all those nice things for the ball? To make up for whatever disappointment he’d unleash later? Doesn't he know that it doesn't matter to me if he’s no good at it, that I just want him to hold me, and to try...a little_?

“Are you _apologizing_? To me?” he asked. “My love, the two worst things about this evening have been the ham and the nagging fear that my mother will show up and drag me back to Minrathous by the ear. The wine alone is worth it.” He patted her on the back. “But it’s nice that you care about my feelings. It’s adorable and I love you for it.”

Ellana pointed behind him, towards the fountain, and above. “Do you think you could cause a distraction? I need to go up there.”

 _Got to get to work. That will take my mind off things_. She laughed bitterly to herself. _I’m starting to sound like Cullen_.

Dorian raised an eyebrow at her. “My love, do you have any doubt?”

He strode to the opposite end of the inner courtyard, away from Ellana’s intended destination. Ellana slipped off her shoes and hid them in a bush next to the fountain. As she scaled the wall, she heard Dorian shout, “I have in my hot hands a vial of authentic Varric Tethras chest hair!” 

Ellana almost fell off the wall laughing. When she reached the top, she looked behind her and saw Dorian getting swarmed by a crowd almost as large as Cullen’s had been, including the Empress’ handmaidens. “Bids start at five gold!”

Ellana reached out to find a secret document on the railing of the upper balcony. It was a wonder that a place like Orlais could function whilst being so careless! Too bad for some indiscreet noble that she now had more juicy pieces of gossip to regale Leliana with. And then there was the matter of the hallas. The palace utilized statuettes of hallas as some sort of security device. Place enough statuettes in a door, and you could unlock it. All this to appease the spirits of elves massacred on this site ages ago. It was shocking how superstitious these shemlen were about her people, but if that could give her an edge somehow, then so be it. She opened a door in the guest apartments and searched inside.

_Bodies. Nothing like the deaths of likely innocent people to reset one’s priorities._

_Whoever did this...was sloppy_. There had been a trail of blood that led from the Hall of Heroes just outside the vestibule, out to the Guest Gardens and up to this room. 

Ellana searched through the quarters of Celene’s arcane advisor, Morrigan, then headed through the Great Library back towards the vestibule. 

_Cullen would love to get lost in a place like this. Maybe if things work out...and if we have time. Wait. Aren’t I upset with him? Ugh_.

Just as she was about to return to Leliana with some pertinent information, she was stopped by Morrigan herself.

She was...an odd woman. Fereldan by her accent, but in possession of a slightly archaic vocabulary, as if she learned the language from old books and not from speaking to actual people. Ellana knew enough about Orlesian fashion to know that this woman’s attire was, although flattering to the wearer, serving to mock the pretensions of the nobility there. 

This was the woman Leliana had warned her about? How did they know each other? It seemed more than a more acquaintance between an arcane advisor to the Empress and the Nightingale of the Imperial Court. No, this was... _personal_.

Morrigan confirmed the presence of Venatori assassins in the palace and gave her the key to the servant’s quarters while she kept an eye on Celene. After Ellana conferred with Leliana and Cullen, she left, filled with dread, to check it out. Dorian, Sera and the Iron Bull met her down there. 

They were greeted by more bodies. A massacre. It looked as though most of the elven servants of Halamshiral, at least thirty in number, had been slaughtered, some of them while still in their beds.

Ellana knelt next to the remains of an elven child still clutching a stuffed wolf. “I don’t understand,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “They weren't even resisting.”

Dorian laid his hand on her shoulder. “Someone trying to neutralize Briala, I’m guessing.”

“But these people aren't fighters!” Ellana exclaimed before looking at Sera. “And I don’t think that if they were spies that they would have been taken down so easily either, do you?”

Sera shook her head silently.

“I think it’s because the Venatori don’t see the elves as people,” Bull said, lifting Ellana by her waist to her feet. “They were just...obstacles in their way.”

Dorian was at least as upset by the carnage as Ellana was. “Let’s go kill some Venatori,” he growled.

He got his wish. On their way to the guest apartments, they accosted the assassins responsible and killed all but one of them, who fled. 

Whilst searching for evidence, Ellana had not expected to find the locket. It was elven, that much was certain, and for some reason it was amongst Celene’s personal belongings. She thought back to something Leliana had told her once...something about Celene and Briala having once been lovers...

“Hmm.”

This, combined with her discovery of the dead body of a Council member, stabbed with Gaspard’s own knife, was helping her to formulate some semblance of focus amidst the chaos. Armed with the amulet, Ellana secured an audience with both Celene and Briala, albeit separately. After listening to the two women tell their stories, she came away with an aching heart. She longed to reconcile them. Not only were they truly in love, but together they could do wondrous things in Orlais.

Ellana’s vision, and her suspicions, were enough to convince Leliana to arrange access to the Royal Quarters. There, Ellana discovered why Celene was considered the most shrewd ruler in all of Thedas. 

There was an alive, but quite naked soldier tied to her bed. From him she learned that Celene knew Gaspard that had planned a coup for that night and had neutralized him, not only before he could make a move against her, but without him even knowing she had done it.

“Masterful,” murmured Ellana. “She should give lessons.”

Before she could tell Leliana, she was ambushed by Gaspard’s sister Florianne, the Grand Duchess of Lydes, and hostess of the ball. “Dance with me, Lady Inquisitor,” she said.

_When in Orlais…_

~~~

Cullen watched Ellana take the Duchess of Lydes by the arm and lead her to the ballroom floor. He couldn't help but wonder if she was the first elf to ever set foot on that floor, not as a servant, but as a guest of the court. Josephine squealed excitedly to his right; she seemed to be merely amplifying the reactions of the crowd in attendance:

“What a delightful young woman!”

“Such grace, such poise!”

“You’d think she’d been playing the Grand Game her whole life,” remarked Leliana. “Look at her face, Commander!” She laid her hand on his shoulder. “Placid as a sleeping babe. She’s winning the Game.”

“That’s my girl!” exclaimed Dorian as he joined them. “I _do_ hope you manage to squeeze some time in with her this evening, Commander, before someone else tries to steal her out from under you.”

Cullen managed to tear his gaze away from Ellana and scanned the rest of the room. Every eye was indeed on her. The floor began to clear as Ellana and the Duchess became the center of everything. A battle of wills masquerading as a dance. His heart swelled with pride. _She may have taken the Orlesian court by storm, but when I get her alone, she is my Stormbringer, our love a torrent of passion, and _—“Ow!”__

__Cassandra had smacked him in the back of the head. “Bull is _talking_ to you!”_ _

__“Remind me not to get you mad,” said Bull with a smirk thrown Cassandra’s way. “Cullen, you should probably know...some serious shit is about to go down and Ellana is right in the middle of it. We questioned a lieutenant of Gaspard’s in the Royal Quarters. He claims that the Empress is already aware of an attempted coup on his behalf and that the threat Gaspard represents has been...negated. But...there was a massacre of the elves in the servants quarters and the area was crawling with Venatori assassins. So…”_ _

__Cullen interrupted, “If Gaspard has already been counterchecked, and...since I doubt Briala would kill that many of her own people, much less align herself with the Venatori, then...there’s another player at the table.”_ _

__“It’s the Duchess,” whispered Ellana, having finally extricated herself from Florianne's side._ _

__Cullen reached out to caress Ellana’s face while Leliana clapped her on the back and Josephine hopped up and down in unbridled delight. “They’ll be talking about that dance for years,” the ambassador gushed._ _

__“Are you alright?” Cullen asked. “Bull told us about the Venatori, which means the assassination attempt is definitely going to take place tonight.”_ _

__Ellana nodded and pulled her advisors into a huddle. “I've spoken to the Empress, to Gaspard, Briala and to the Duchess. Celene knows about one coup, but I don’t think she’s aware of the other.”_ _

__“Warning her will do no good,” Josephine asserted. “If she retreats, she will lose face, and possibly the support of the Council of Heralds.”_ _

__“We _could_ just let her die,” Leliana said. “If we think someone else could be a better leader for Orlais.”_ _

__Cullen was about to open his mouth to agree with Leliana when Ellana shot him a look. “Absolutely not,” she spat. “That man is a poisonous snake. Leave him in charge? _Really_? What do you think his first move is going to be after Corypheus is defeated? Ferelden. And don't think that any treaty is going to hold him back. We've seen tonight how little regard he has for them.” She looked from Cullen, to Leliana and back to Cullen again. “Without Queen Elissa, King Alistair is easy pickings. And Gaspard _knows_ it. Is _that_ what you want?”_ _

__Leliana and Cullen looked at each other and then looked back at Ellana._ _

__“Yes, I _do_ read the reports you give me. King Alistair is beloved by his people, but that alone will not win a war against Orlais. We cannot let the enemy force us into making hasty decisions in the hopes of an easy win. We have to play the long game. We have to think about the kind of world the Inquisition will leave in its wake, not just of a victory over Corypheus.”_ _

__Ellana walked off and into the vestibule. Dorian, Sera and Bull followed her. As Cullen watched her leave, he resolved to keep a very close eye on the Duchess._ _

___Wait_._ _

___Where is she_?_ _

____

~~~

Ellana realized that there was more to the Royal Quarters that she had yet to uncover, and sure enough, through a doorway, she heard the sound of a very angry Fereldan and the familiar strains of a fade rift.

“Well, shite,” grumbled Sera.

Bull kicked down the door.

“Next time, I want to cast a fireball,” quipped Dorian, as they ran towards the rift...and right into a trap laid by Florianne. Surrounded by archers and assassins, Ellana and her companions were addressed by the Grand Duchess.

“Inquisitor! What a pleasure! I wasn't certain you’d attend.” She smirked. “You’re such a challenge to read. Truly a prodigy of the Game if I ever saw one. I was honestly not sure if you’d taken my bait.”

Ellana laughed. “I’m afraid I’m a bit busy at the moment, if you were looking for a dance partner.”

“Yes, I see that. Such a pity you did not save one final dance for me. Ah, well. Perhaps after my men kill you, I’ll have a little dance with your Commander.” A triumphant grin spread across her face. “You may play the Game, but he doesn't. His feelings for you are practically stamped on his forehead. Corypheus insisted that the Empress die tonight. if I don’t disappoint him, perhaps he will give the Commander to me as a pet.”

Ellana’s nostrils flared as she smiled. “You’re being unkind, Florianne. You've got to let him get used to disappointment.”

Florianne laughed. “You flinched, Inquisitor.” She turned to her men. “Kill her. Bring me the marked hand as proof.”

As the Duchess exited, her archers fired. Ellana dodged the projectiles and shot her hand up to open the fade rift.

“Yes, what a lovely idea. Let’s add demons!” groaned Dorian.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Ellana shouted over the din. “The demons are just leveling the playing field!”

“Have I ever told you how much I _hate_ demons? Because in case there was any question—” The Iron Bull sliced a despair demon in half.

“One for you, one for you, and Andraste’s tits, you’re ugly,” Sera called out. “Four for you!”

“Less talking, more killing!” Ellana roared. “We've got to get back in time to save the Empress.”

“And your Cullen-Wullen,” Sera teased.

“Shut up!”

“Cully-Wully!”

“Ugh!”

It was over soon enough, and it turned out that the angry Fereldan was a mercenary hired by Gaspard to move on the Palace and attack the guards loyal to the Empress. And the final piece of the puzzle fell into place. Ellana took off for the ballroom. She had to warn Cullen.

~~~

Ellana returned to the ballroom, her beautiful dress spattered with blood and ichor. Cullen watched her lock eyes across the room with the Duchess, then ran to her. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

“It’s definitely the Duchess, Cullen. But Gaspard’s hands aren't clean either. Brother and sister are _both_ going to die tonight. Have your men detain her,” she stood on tiptoe and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’m counting on you,” she murmured against his lips before she darted off, making her way towards the Empress.

~~~

Ellana maneuvered her way through the masses of nobles towards the Empress’ flank. As she did so, Celene stepped forward to make her speech. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cullen giving orders to his men and saw them fan about the room. “Excusez-moi!” Ellana murmured. “Pardon!”

“Lords and Ladies, as a nation we mourn our sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, friends and lovers claimed by war.”

Cullen's mind was racing. _What does she think she's doing? Does she hope to take Florianne on herself? It’s not like she could just open a fade rift over her head, not without killing Celene in the process_!

“The sky is torn open, our Divine is dead, and many fear the end of all things comes upon us.”

Ellana found herself worrying about Cullen. _He doesn’t have a shield. What is he going to do without his shield if a fight breaks out? Does he even have a weapon on him_? She couldn't remember.

“Orlais must stand as a bastion, a bulwark behind which all Thedas may take shelter.”

At this most inopportune time, Cullen suddenly remembered that earlier in the evening, in an effort towards sparkling conversation, that The Dowager had told him that Duchess Florianne was one of the deadliest women in the world with a knife and that she’d had extensive bard training.

“So has it stood for a thousand years! So shall it ever stand! 

_Almost there..._ Part of Ellana wondered what had happened during the negotiations, not that much of their agreements were going to come to fruition. 

“This would not have been possible without the efforts of many. Dear Cousin, please step forward.”

Ellana drew her staff. “Grand Duchess, stand down!”

Cullen’s men stepped in, but four of them were cut down by Florianne’s daggers before they could even position themselves properly. The rest of them fared no better against the Venatori assassins hidden amongst the crowd. As the Duchess took off, Ellana made a mental note to have Leliana give the troops some pointers on close combat. Perhaps in lecture format. How to Not Get Killed By a Bard, she can call it. “Cullen,” she called out as she took off in pursuit, “protect the people!”

“Yes, Inquisitor!”

One of the Venatori leapt after Ellana, dagger aloft, but got an unpleasant surprise. In the face. Namely, the dirk Cullen always carried in his boot. He laughed that laugh that always made Ellana’s eyes crinkle and nose wrinkle. _That had to have been at least 50 yards away_! He wished she could have seen it. 

_Finally_ , he could hit things. Life was good.

Florianne tumbled to the gardens below, her elaborate gown revealed to be an illusion. 

Neat trick, thought Ellana, even as the Duchess pointed an arrow at her.

“Beaten at every turn,” Florianne admonished. “You stole the moment of my triumph, like you stole the mages from Corypheus. And now you’ve chased a defenseless woman into the garden. Are you proud of yourself?”

“Defenseless?” Ellana laughed. “Hardly. I’d be asking you to teach my men hand-to-hand combat but...you’ll be dead soon, and that would complicate things.”

Florianne fired an arrow, narrowly missing Ellana by inches, but it was at close range. Not her favored weapon, Ellana thought. The Duchess then threw a smoke bomb and back-flipped on top of the fountain below. “The night is still young. All I need to do to recover...is to kill you, Inquisitor. So good of you to attend my soiree.”

Of course there were more Venatori outside, present in a futile effort to shift the odds in Florianne’s favor. Bull was a one-Qunari army, mowing down any and every assassin in his path. Dorian aimed a fireball at a small group of Venatori and looked at Ellana disapprovingly. “My love, is that demon ichor on your dress?”

“I didn't have time to change in and out of it!” she exclaimed defensively.

“ _I_ had time,” Dorian quipped.

“Glad to know your priorities are sorted, Dorian!”

“Are you two bickering?” Florianne called out in surprise.

Dorian and Ellana answered “No!”

“So this is playful banter, then?” the Duchess asked, firing an arrow that landed in Dorian’s staff.

“Ooh. An arrow in the staff!” Sera giggled. “That looks _painful_.”

“Nonsense,” answered Dorian. “Lots of men have their staves pierced. It’s called—”

“The third date!” yelled the Iron Bull.

“Only if you take me out to dinner first!” Dorian retorted.

“Do nuts count?” Bull teased. “Because they have these nuts here. They start off sweet and then—BAM—hot.”

“I’m not sure what to say to that, honestly.” answered Dorian.

“Good,” screamed Florianne. “Maybe now you’ll shut up and die!”

But without the continuing banter to distract them, the Duchess was defeated quickly, and the companions headed back towards the palace.


	20. Two Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen has one more surprise for Ellana at the Halamshiral Imperial Masquerade Ball.

The evening was coming to an end. Ellana smiled. Things had worked out well. Celene and Briala were reunited. With no more challengers to her throne, Celene promised bolder reforms and made Briala Orlais’ first elven marquise. The three of them addressed the court together in a rousing, inspirational speech. And, to cap things off, Celene had assigned Morrigan to the Inquisition as her personal liaison. Things were perfect. Almost.

~~~

Cullen recognized Celene’s arcane advisor from long ago. She had stood opposite him as he knelt in his magic cage. A friend of Elissa’s. “Do not look at me,” she’d said with a raised eyebrow. “Tis not _I_ that cast this spell.” Cullen’s stomach lurched at the sight of her as the memories began flooding back. He took a deep breath and stepped aside to let the woman pass. He had a plan, and he needed to see it through.

“There you are! Everyone’s been looking for you,” he said as he approached Ellana from behind. She was leaning on the balcony looking out onto the gardens. Cullen found himself wondering if she was homesick and leaned next to her. “Things have calmed down for the moment. Are you all right?”

Ellana smiled. “Celene holds the throne, Briala is the first elven marquise in Orlais, Bull has Dorian on his lap, feeding him nuts by hand, and you were the belle of the ball,” she said with a laugh. “All things considered, I’d say the night was a smashing success.” She looked down. “Except for the dress. I ruined it, I think. Dorian was right. I should have been more careful.”

Cullen sighed. “I don’t care about the dress, I care about _you_.” He rubbed her back. “I know it’s foolish, but I was worried for you tonight.” His hand slid to her shoulder. Ellana looked up at him, took his hand and squeezed it affectionately. He smiled and took a deep breath. “I may never have another chance like this, so I must ask…”

Cullen stepped back, bowed, and held out his hand. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

Ellana’s eyes widened and her breath hitched as she took his hand. “Of—of course! I thought you didn't dance.”

Cullen swept her into his arms with a chuckle. “For you, I’ll try.”

He wondered if she noticed that he requested that the court musicians play “The Girl From Red Crossing.”

Cullen held her close, humming and murmuring the song in her ear as they danced, the lyric “to marry me” decidedly clearer than the rest. Ellana’s feet hurt and she was spattered with gore, but he made her feel like a princess. “Mon chevalier,” she whispered.

“Oui, mon chaton?” Cullen replied, his breath tickling the tip of her ear.

“Je t’aime,” she sighed, and rested her head on his chest. “Merci beaucoup pour tout .”

_Ar lath ma_. Cullen’s lips formed the words but made no sound. _Ar lath ma, emma nehn, emma vhenan, emma da’sa. Emma na’en uth_. He kissed her forehead and said nothing until the song came to a close. “Would—would you care to join me for a walk in the gardens?” he stammered, “the moonlight…”

Ellana smiled and rescued him with a kiss. “Mais bien sûr .”

~~~

Ellana sat on the edge of the fountain, her bare feet gently splashing in the water, the moonlight glinting off her hair and shining in her eyes. It wasn't going to get much more perfect than this. Cullen dropped to one knee beside her. “Maker’s Breath, Ellana. You’re so beautiful!” he reached inside his breast pocket…

It was empty. His eyes widened as he began sifting through his other pockets. _Where is it? Did it fall out? Think, think, think_.

Cullen remembered looking at his reflection in the mirror, fixing his hair, and smoothing out his uniform. “She’s seen it before, you know. Nothing to be nervous about,” he had mumbled to himself. He remembered looking down at the vanity and gazing at the ring that sat atop it. _Don’t forget the ring. Don’t forget the ring. Don’t forget the ring. Everything has to be perfect. Everything_ — He remembered Dorian knocking on the door...and that after he saw Ellana in the hallway, he’d been so distracted that he’d...

...forgotten to go back for the ring.

_No._

_No no no no no. Fuck, fuck, fuck._

“Cullen?” Ellana whispered in his ear and ran her fingers through his hair. “Are you all right?”

Cullen looked at her. It wasn't ideal. He ached to ask her anyway. He needed to know that now that they’d found each other, that she would never leave him. He wanted her to know that he belonged to her completely, heart and soul.

But now it would have to wait. His own withdrawal-addled brain had betrayed him. _I should be taking it. I should be_ —

“Cullen?” she asked again before kissing him. “Are you all right?”

He sighed and pulled her to him tightly. “Almost perfect.”

END OF PART TWO.

**Author's Note:**

> Part two of a Four Part series. And this nutritious breakfast.


End file.
